


Watch Your Back (There's a New Killer in Town)

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Hand Jobs, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manipulation, Object Insertion, POV Alternating, Role Reversal, Semi-Public Sex, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, dark!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Motivated by the violent death of his parents and younger sister, Mischa, Hannibal Lecter has become a renowned profiler with the FBI in Baltimore. Will Graham has had a taste for death since he was young, skills honed by his years of hunting game with his father before his death. He has grown bored of the Louisiana PD and has set his sights on Baltimore, eager for a more intriguing challenge. </p><p>This is the story of profiler!Hannibal and serial killer!Will, and the crossing and entwining of their paths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Will glanced up at the clock from his desk by the fireplace where he was currently stringing two red-tailed hawk feathers into his newest lure. _11:26pm_. Another thirty four minutes before he would truly consider heading out. To some midnight would seem late, but for Will's purposes it was on the edge of too early. Too many workaholics dragging their feet home after picking up a takeout dinner to round out a long day. Too many people awake enough to glance out their living room windows and notice a stranger walking their sidewalks.

 

The temptation pressed Will to leave now, but the hunger was ever present and Will had long since learned how to tame it. Patience was a virtue he held in high regard. It was the skill that weeded out the strong from the weak, the intelligent from the brash. Yes, Will always anticipated the next hunt, but more important was to harness that hunger to avoid turning rash. Will could ignore the hunt if he had to – as he had done the last year since moving to Baltimore – but he chose not to.

 

Still, a year was a long time. Necessary, yes, but long. When Will had left Louisiana and come to Baltimore, it had not been a fanciful decision. He had grown up in Louisiana with his father even after his mother had run off one night and never came back. It was where Will's father had taught him to fish and hunt, to prepare bait and set traps, to cut and clean a carcass and put every piece of it to good use.

 

The death of his father had changed nothing, nor had the death of his mother. All Will knew of her beyond a dull sense of betrayal was that the guilt of leaving must've weighed heavy on her since when she died, her substantial wealth was left to Will. He had had it set away in an account, as disgusted with the money as with her, and continued the life he had made for himself.

 

It had been the death of his father that opened the gates to Will and allowed him free reign. Not that his father's death was scarring in any way; smoking your entire life was the surest way to make your lungs rebel and take you to an early grave. But when he had been alive, Will's urges for death had to be restrained and kept to the game he and his father hunted.

 

When his father was gone and there was no one but Will to track his comings and goings, to wonder what sort of animal owned the blood staining Will's palms, Will had flourished. There were plenty of unmarked paths and backwater areas where a body – or more specifically, _pieces_ of bodies – could disappear. Will's father had taught him the importance of avoiding waste and Will honoured that lesson, using as much of a kill's body as possible. Organs and meat for dinners, mostly. Originally Will had thought to use the bones, hair and skin for other things such as his lures, but had brushed the idea aside when he realized the necessity for caution.

 

What he didn't use ended up in a swamp or marsh where the greedy mud would bury the bodies properly if the wildlife didn't find them first. On occasion Will would throw an entire body, untouched, away. Some people were so horrible or cruel that they deserved to have their lives cut short and cast aside like filth, wasted. Will enjoyed killing those ones. There was a particular form of satisfaction watching the body sink below the water, knowing he could've made use of them but having deemed them unworthy.

 

Of course, only so many people could disappear over the years before someone started to take notice. There was nothing for anyone to go on until a season of heavy rain drenched the state. An unfortunate fisherman wading through a swamp stumbled upon a collection of human remains when the waters had swelled and lifted what was left into the reeds. That swamp was only one of many, and not nearly close enough to Will's childhood home to draw suspicion to him, but the discovery caused a flurry.

 

Remains of seventeen individuals in various stages of decay, water-logging and desecration where fish and other animals had nibbled at flayed skin. It was enough to send the newspapers into a panic and trigger a flock of FBI investigators akin to vultures. All of the locals were interviewed – Will was never interviewed, and none of the locals had ever seen him passing through before, let alone with a body.

 

_The Louisiana Lure_.

 

It had a ring to it, and always triggered a proud smile on Will's lips when he was not in the company of others. Chosen by the papers when details about the investigation started to leak. What little remained of that tiny pocket of Will's kills showed that many of the victims had been unsuspecting that they were breathing their last breaths and speaking their last words until life was already dimming from their eyes. As though they were lured away from their daily lives, the hunting knife cutting through skin so smoothly it was hardly noticed, and then they were gone to the world.

 

Who could walk up to a stranger and lure them away so effectively without raising suspicion or fear? And it had to be a stranger, because the FBI was not able to establish any connections between the victims. Two, in fact, had been completing solo road trips by chance through the state and never returned home. Everyone was on high alert but no one knew what to watch out for, scared of their own shadow. No one knew how he could come to know his victims intimately enough in the seconds required to tempt them away. The FBI never let it go, holding it close to their chests like a bitter grudge, but they never came close.

 

Will had a strong sense of self-preservation, but after a certain number of years it grew tiresome to kill without any thrill of danger or genuine understanding or appreciation for his work. No one saw the mastery behind doing what he did and avoiding both attention and capture; all they saw were dead body pieces. They probably didn't even recognize that some bodies had been honoured through the use of their organs while others had been left to rot.

 

One year ago was when Will had first heard word of a renowned profiler for the FBI in Baltimore by the name of Hannibal Lecter. The short newspaper article Will had read on the man summarized him in brief: born in Lithuania, arrived in the United States in his early teens alone (reason undisclosed), and a swift turn to law enforcement as he surpassed all schooling laid out in front of him. The list of serial killers Lecter had profiled – and thereby assisting in the capture of – was impressive; Will would give him that.

 

Like a moth drawn to a dangerous, fickle flame, Will had tied up all loose ends of his life in Louisiana and flown to Baltimore. The night before he had flown out, Will had taken one final life in his home state. The memory now, a year later, was still sharp. Feeling the split flesh of the man's throat gape under his palms, the hot gush of blood between his fingers, the last gurgle of breath before the man was gone from the world.

 

It was that memory that had both taunted and tamed Will's urge to hunt for the last year. Will had known it was important to wait though. If a new serial killer arrived on the scene in Baltimore, the first thing the FBI would do would be to look into those who had just arrived. Those who had no ties or established roots. So Will had bought a modest house, re-opened his psychiatry practice and made a strong, respected name for himself. His years of practice and published research back in Louisiana helped; he was not a ghost but a simple man who had moved states, eager for a change in scenery.

 

Will had met acquaintances who would call him friend and had adopted a stray dog and named him Winston. He had gone for hunting and fishing trips as the seasons permitted, explored the forests, fields and rivers with assessing, critical eyes. And he had researched the Baltimore branch of the FBI and their prodigy profiler. It had been nearly impossible to glean more personal details about Hannibal Lecter from anyone, which only made Will all the more eager to leave Hannibal his welcome gift.

 

He glanced up at the clock again; _11:47pm_. Close enough. Will pushed his chair back from the desk and doused the fire in the fireplace. Winston picked his head up from his paws and trailed behind Will as he made his way upstairs to change. Will allowed Winston to bite a cube of meat from between his fingers before slipping the rest of the small package into his jacket pocket.

 

Forty minutes from home, Will parked his car in a little gravel parking lot off a back road. During the day it was often used by those wanting to go for a walk through the thick forest alone or with their dogs. At this time of night it was deserted, lit only by the sliver of moon in the sky. Will turned off the car and got out, Winston jumping out of the passenger seat and accepting another cube of meat. Will gave a little whistle and together the two of them began walking down the side of the back road.

 

Approximately fifty steps from the tiny parking lot he stopped and crouched down, scratching Winston behind the ears and feeding him another cube of meat to appease him while they waited. It was chilly even though winter wasn't yet upon Baltimore. It was the best time to hunt without leaving a trail; the ground made hard by frost.

 

Once Will saw headlights approaching in the distance he stood up and gripped Winston's collar, waving a hand to catch the driver's attention when he was framed by the high beams. He winced and covered his eyes as the car slowed to a stop beside him and a window was rolled down. "Are you alright?" a middle-aged woman asked him, eyes wary but concerned. It could've been anyone who next came down the road; Will wasn't particular.

 

"Not really, to be honest," he admitted, an apologetic look on his face as he pointed back to the parking lot which was just visible down the road. "I'm afraid my battery is dead; I barely got the car off the road." Will saw the woman look down the road and take in the parked car, though her lips were still a thin line. It was a dangerous world, and hard to trust. "I promise I'm not going to ask for a drive anywhere or anything," Will assured warmly. "If I could just get a jump from your car I'd be eternally grateful."

 

The woman seemed slightly reassured by the fact that Will was not going to try to talk his way into her car. "I'm not that handy with cars," she hedged.

 

"That's fine, I'll do all the work," Will promised. He kept his distance but he let a friendly smile curl his lips. "If you just park beside my car I can use my jumper cables." Will did not allow a sliver of impatience to reach his eyes when the woman weathered her bottom lip in deliberation, assessing Will for threats. On cue Winston whined and turned his face into Will's side, seeking another treat, though Will took advantage to kneel down and rub at the dog's coat. "We'll get you home and warm soon, buddy, I promise."

 

It was the tipping point. "Alright, I'll drive up and meet you at the car," the driver said and rolled her window back up. Will snuck Winston another treat and they jogged side by side back to the parking lot. By the time they arrived, the woman had turned off her car and stepped out, pulling her coat tighter around her. "Maybe I should've driven you," she crossed her arms uncertainly. "I'm sorry; you know the stories you hear about strangers at night."

 

"Can't be too careful," Will smiled as he approached slowly. It would not do to startle his prey into fleeing this close to the hook. "I really appreciate you stopping, thank you again."

 

"Happy to help," she nodded, though her eyes were on Winston. "What's his name?"

 

"Winston," Will said affectionately. "You can pet him if you want while I get the jumper cables from my trunk; he's really friendly."

 

He didn't ask the woman's name. Will didn't care who she was; it didn't matter one way or the other. He popped his car's trunk and pulled out the jumper cables while the woman pet Winston and rubbed his head. It was interesting how many victims could be lured by a friendly dog. Will closed the trunk, opened his passenger door and gave a whistle. Winston bounded forward and clamoured inside, letting Will shut the door behind him.

 

"I don't want him getting cold," he said for explanation, "though I don't think this should take long."

 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" the woman asked as she brushed off a few stray dog hairs from the hem of her coat.

 

"If you could pop the hood of your truck that would be great," Will said. He set the jumper cables on the ground and feigned fumbling with the latch of his own car's hood. As soon as the woman had her head bent to pop her truck's hood Will was behind her, hunting knife pressed as a warning to her bare throat and gloved hand covering her mouth. "I won't kill you if you just walk," he lied.

 

She tried to bite his fingers but only dented the leather of his glove. Will could hear her crying quietly but she walked when Will began to lead her down the path into the forest and away from the road. They walked for ten minutes and although his prey would occasionally squirm, Will's hold never wavered. When they reached his pre-chosen place he pushed her to the ground, using his weight to keep her in place. Will had chosen this location specifically; an early-morning jogger would stumble upon her body in a few hours and then the police would descend. If Will was lucky, the FBI would be involved immediately. If not, Will would not bemoan the requirement for another hunt.

 

Hand still over her mouth, knife to her throat, Will studied her eyes. At once her life was his through his empathy. A husband who perhaps drank too much but undoubtedly loved his wife, and a young girl who would have to learn how to navigate the world without her mother. A career working with books in a library, and hobbies of gardening and embroidery. Fears of inadequacy, of failure and of loneliness. Her eyes shone with tears.

 

"You have done nothing to deserve this," Will reassured her. "You lived a good life. But now you serve a greater purpose." The blade bit in just enough so that she had no doubts about what was coming. She began to fight in earnest, knees bruising Will's lower back, but he would not yield. "You are my gift for someone very important," he told her. "Your death will have meaning. It will hurt, but it will be over soon."

 

Will made sure that his cut was clean and deep. She would suffer regardless, but he could make her death as quick as possible. Blood gushed from her torn throat and her final cries were muted by Will's glove. Will held her in place until the blood loss slowed her movements, dulled her senses and, at last, stilled her heart. He pried her coat open and pulled her shirt up just enough to expose the canvas of her stomach, where he carved his greeting. Then Will wiped his blade clean on her scarf, cleaned dog fur and dander from her coat and under her nails, and left.

 

Will left the woman's car untouched, returned his jumper cables to the trunk and quickly slid on a new pair of pants while shoving his bloodstained ones into a bag in the back seat. Winston greeted him and accepted another cube of meat, chewing on it happily as Will put his car in reverse and drove out onto the road. When they returned home he threw his clothes into the wash, showered, and fell into bed for a satisfied, restful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal was jarred from sleep not by his alarm but by the horrible clatter of his cell phone vibrating on his bedside table. He rubbed at his eyes and fumbled for his phone, checking the number before bringing it to his ear. "Jack," he said by way of greeting, his voice still sleep-roughened.

 

"I need you here ten minutes ago," Jack ordered gruffly, clearly wide awake and charged by whatever crime scene had been discovered in the night. "I'm texting you the location now."

 

Jack hung up without another word and although Hannibal frowned at the rudeness of his superior officer, there was nothing to be said. He skipped his morning shower much to his displeasure and pulled on some clothes. Hannibal grabbed his toast as it popped out of his toaster and ate it as he walked to his car, opening a map on his phone using the directions Jack had texted him. This had better be important; Hannibal normally scheduled an hour to himself before he had to be anywhere on normal days, allowing himself time to shower and make a proper breakfast.

 

His mood had not improved much when he parked in the small parking lot next to a lush forest, which was already crammed full of various police and FBI vehicles. However, long ago Hannibal had learned to hide his emotions from view and plastered a plain – if tired – expression on his face. Jack was waiting for him and approached before Hannibal had even made it fully out of his car and locked the door behind him. "What took you so long?" Jack barked.

 

Hannibal breathed deeply through his nose, containing his irritation and fighting the urge to clench his teeth. "Good morning to you as well, Jack," Hannibal said in a pointedly pleasant tone. "What has been discovered?"

 

Jack waved Hannibal behind him and together they made their way down the path. It couldn't just be any normal murder; Hannibal didn't get called in on those. Something had to be amiss, and Hannibal kept a sharp eye on the path even though it was pointless. By now joggers, dog walkers, and the various FBI personnel would've trampled all over any potential tracks or small clues. Hannibal slid his hands into his pockets to combat the chill in the air and wished feverishly for coffee as the forest widened into a field of tall grass.

 

It was impossible to miss the body. It had been left just a few paces off the path, ready for the first unfortunate jogger of the day to find. The tall grass around the body had been trampled down by the FBI but Jack shooed them all away when Hannibal approached to give him a bit of space. The woman had long flaxen hair that for some reason reminded Hannibal of his mother when he was young. Hannibal shook the thought from his head and took in the rest of the body.

 

The woman's throat was cut cleanly, with strength and expertise. The killer knew how to use a blade, and though he couldn't be certain now, Hannibal would guess some form of knife that could be kept hooked to a belt – innocent until not. He could see that the woman's shirt had been pushed up but maintained her modesty; only enough skin was bared for the killer's message.

 

 _Welcome_.

 

Hannibal could sense Jack at his elbow, vibrating with his impatient need for answers. "It's a greeting."

 

"Obviously," Jack huffed. "But for who?"

 

Hannibal didn't look away from the body; barely blinked. "Me." Jack grunted his confusion and Hannibal finally glanced over. "I told you it was foolish to let articles mention me as a renowned profiler. Serial killers love what they feel is a worthy challenge." Hannibal returned his focus to the corpse as he knelt down, taking in the cut of the letters into skin. The edges were slightly rough. A hunting knife, maybe. "This is a challenger inviting me into the ring."

 

"Look, Hannibal," Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary. "Maybe we should get someone else on this case."

 

Hannibal stood stiffly, returning his hands again to his pockets so that no one would see his fingers curling into fists. "I am perfectly capable."

 

"I'm not saying you're not," Jack motioned for Hannibal to follow him a few steps away from the body and any listening ears. "I called you because you're the best; everyone knows that. But I'm not even supposed to have you on active duty right now until..." Jack trailed off uncomfortably. They had already had this discussion multiple times, and Hannibal was never happy with the topic. He had made that clear.

 

Hannibal pursed his lips. He and any other agent working in the field had to complete a psych evaluation every year to remain on active duty. Hannibal hadn't failed, per se... But his score had dipped towards the gray area where everyone started to look a little closer. It didn't mean that Hannibal was banned from active duty permanently, but he had been informed that he had to attend a few psychiatry sessions until he was cleared to return to the field.

 

"You already called me," Hannibal pointed out tersely.

 

"And I shouldn't have," Jack admitted. "Especially if this lunatic is specifically after you."

 

"It's too late for that," Hannibal shook his head and sighed, looked back to the body. A welcoming gift. "There will be more deaths until I join the hunt." Hannibal was certain. "Any other profiler will only anger the killer." Jack was studying Hannibal's face and at last Hannibal relented. "I'll complete the mandatory psychiatric visits but only if I can remain active on this case."

 

Jack clapped Hannibal on the shoulder, never remembering Hannibal's clear statement of disliking being touched without permission. Hannibal allowed the contact long enough to avoid appearing outwardly rude and then stepped out of Jack's reach. Jack wasn't paying attention, pleased to have gotten his way. "You bring me a note from whichever psychiatrist you see and I'll welcome you with open arms. Do you want one last look before you go?"

 

Hannibal studied the body for another few minutes but there was no other information to gather from it. There was nothing hidden for Hannibal to find; the purpose of the message was clear and simple. Jack gave him a wave when Hannibal said he was leaving and told Hannibal to give him a call as soon as he had gotten clearance.

 

The classical music fighting through the static of his car's radio on the drive to the office was not as soothing as Hannibal needed it to be. There was a special area on the second floor for those who handled all testing for field officers, both physical and mental. That area was sectioned off with fogged glass for privacy, though it was never enough to save Hannibal from the feeling of fingers prying where they shouldn't when he was forced in there.

 

He had been adamant after receiving his test results about not seeing a psychiatrist despite the office's insistence. Hannibal had been forced into counselling after the violent death of his parents and younger sister, Mischa, back in Lithuania. Even at the age of eleven, Hannibal had found the psychiatrist tiresome when she attempted to coddle him, and downright irritating when her eyes and questions turned insistent and intrusive.

 

The sessions had not helped him. Hannibal never gained a sense of closure or peace regarding the death of his family, and did not learn how to leave that behind. Hannibal carried the deaths of his parents and sister with him always. It was what had driven him to join law enforcement, and jump from the police to the FBI as soon as his exceptional school grades and profiling abilities opened the doors he required. Hannibal had been helpless to save his family, but now he would do everything he could to cut short the rampage of as many killers as possible.

 

All Hannibal had ever learned from those sessions was how to act like nothing was wrong with him. He supposed now that skill would come in handy again. If he acted appropriately, played his masks in the correct order, then the psychiatrist that the FBI paired him with would be appeased and reassured and clear Hannibal for active duty with a confident assurance to all that Hannibal Lecter was entirely sane. No one saw the shadows festering inside Hannibal, coiling and writhing for release. No one needed to see them.

 

"There are a few you can choose from that consult with the FBI," Janet, the woman in charge of Hannibal's file advised him as she slid a sheet of paper across the desk to him for his review. "Doctor William Graham is renowned in his field, though I don't know if the location will be convenient for you."

 

The word rang in Hannibal's ear – _renowned_. It seemed fitting and Hannibal was willing to indulge coincidence just this once. He looked at the address typed under the psychiatrist's name and mentally calculated that it was only a fifteen minute drive from his house. "He'll do."

 

"Great," Janet ignored his unenthusiastic tone. "I'll just give his office a call and see when they can slot you in." Hannibal assumed the FBI would be given preferential treatment when they called so he didn't dissuade Janet from making the call. The sooner he could get cleared and back out into the field, the happier he'd be. Janet offered a warm greeting to whoever answered, asked about availability, and _hm_ 'ed a few times in a row. "Well if that's the earliest..." she sighed, "Alright, not a problem. Yes, his name is Hannibal— Oh, yes, I'll wait."

 

By now Hannibal was staring out the window, his thoughts far away. The killer had left the gift for him hours before and Hannibal felt like he was falling further and further behind. He supposed there was no reason to feel rushed. The killer was interested in him, after all; Hannibal would never be left so far behind that he couldn't keep up. Hannibal's concern was that if he was detained for too long, the killer would feel the need to leave more bodies as breadcrumbs to ensure Hannibal didn't get lost.

 

"Yes, thank you. Goodbye." Hannibal glanced back when Janet hung up the phone and scribbled a few numbers down on the sheet with the list of names and addresses. "That was actually Doctor Graham; apparently his receptionist is off sick today. His two-thirty appointment cancelled for this afternoon and he agreed to slot you in."

 

"How gracious," Hannibal only played a smile for Janet's sake. She was only doing her job. "Thank you for your assistance."

 

He took the sheet where Janet had circled Doctor Graham's name, address and phone number, and had added _2:30pm_ underneath. Hannibal bade his farewells and left the office, grateful at least that he didn't have a lecture to teach today. He had enough time to go home, shower properly and dress more appropriately before having lunch and heading over to the office. If Hannibal played his cards right and hit all the cues this psychiatrist was looking for, Hannibal could be calling Jack and returning to the case before dinner.

 

Hannibal felt better after his shower and a generous plate of scrambled eggs and bacon for lunch. In the few hours Hannibal had left he wrote down some of his thoughts about this new killer in a journal he kept in his bedside table and then graded the last few essays in a pile for one of his classes. By the time all that was wrapped up Hannibal felt a little more settled and prepared to face the probing psychiatrist. Hannibal dressed in the second-nicest suit he owned and didn't let himself grimace about the quality of fabric; he had long since acknowledged that his salary could not satisfy his taste for luxury, but it remained difficult to accept.

 

He wasn't sure what to expect, but Hannibal found Doctor Graham's office to be rather tasteful from the outside. The building was clearly older, built with sturdy brick and old, fashionably-tall windows, and was tucked next to what appeared to be a historic church. A little pocket of olden high-class architecture amongst the modern skyscrapers and bustling foot traffic.

 

Inside was a blend of old and new, but all finishings had been completed beautifully. The main door opened up into a large, warm waiting area, with a row of plush chairs and a receptionist's desk which currently sat vacant. Hannibal remembered Janet's comment about the receptionist being off sick for the day. He was surprised but relieved that there was no one else waiting in the room; this was already infringing on his preference for privacy as it was.

 

Hannibal chose one of the chairs at random and sat down, listening to the clock tick away on the wall. He was ten minutes early and would be patient until five minutes after his appointment time to grant a fair amount of leniency for those dealing with the public. Thankfully, Hannibal was pleasantly surprised when he heard footsteps trot down the stairs and a man stepped into the waiting room five minutes early.

 

"Do you have an appointment?" the man asked with a friendly smile, shoulders relaxed and posture curious. Hannibal did not miss the way the man's eyes studied every inch of him in a quick sweep.

 

He stood from his chair and smoothed wrinkles from his suit. "Hannibal Lecter; an appointment was made for me."

 

"Yes, of course," Will nodded and stepped closer. Will was halfway to lifting a hand to offer a shake when he paused, studying Hannibal again. "How are you about physical contact? And do you prefer Hannibal or Mister Lecter?"

 

"I do not prefer physical contact when it is not welcome," Hannibal said in the same breath as he reached forward and shook Will's hand strongly. "And Hannibal is fine. Thank you for asking, Doctor Graham."

 

Will smiled wider; Hannibal wasn't sure why he seemed so pleased as they shook hands for another brief moment. "You don't prefer physical contact and yet you will indulge social etiquette requiring it, interesting." Hannibal's jaw clenched at being read so easily and knew Will had caught the additional tell. Hannibal needed to stay sharp with this one. "Well come on, let's go upstairs," Will motioned for the stairs he had descended, leading the way and calling back over his shoulder. "And please call me Will."

 

The office was spacious and beautiful. Dark hardwood floors, two-story windows, an open office area with a ladder in the corner leading up to a small balcony-type second floor where rows and rows of books lay in wait for an intrigued mind. A fireplace against the wall, a desk, more books, two chairs facing one another, and a chaise lounge by the windows. Everything in the room looked expensive but was not tasteless or wasteful.

 

"Do you like it?" Will asked.

 

Only then did Hannibal realize he had stopped walking just inside the door. "Yes, it is lovely," he was willing to admit.

 

"Thank you; I can't help but agree," Will nudged the door closed behind them and nodded towards the two chairs facing each other in the centre of the room. "For this first time we can sit here," Will said as Hannibal followed his lead and took the seat opposite him. "But in future I would like you to feel comfortable in this space; you may sit or stand where you please." Hannibal made a noncommittal sound regarding the 'in future' statement and Will looked amused. "Which brings me to my first question: what is your goal here in therapy?"

 

Hannibal knew that lying or skirting the question would not speed up the process so he went with honesty. "To be cleared to return to active field work."

 

"Why is that a priority?"

 

Will was lightning quick, but Hannibal was just as fast. "I cannot discuss FBI business."

 

"On the contrary," Will tapped a finger to the folder of paper sitting on the end table beside his chair. "My purpose for consulting with the FBI is precisely so that field agents can talk about what they see and do on duty. Full disclosure; they sent over your file and your test results after setting up the appointment but I haven't read any of it yet."

 

"Lacking in time?" _Lazy?_

 

Will waved him off. "Why would I read notes when I could hear from the person themselves about their thoughts and feelings?"

 

Hannibal noticed that Will was trying to catch his eye but Hannibal repeatedly denied him of this. "I would rather not."

 

"Very well," Will folded far too easily, surprising Hannibal enough that he accidentally looked up and met Will's eyes. It was only for an instant before he tore his gaze away again, but it felt like a hand had squeezed around his heart, like something vital had been taken from him, observed, and put back in the wrong place.

 

After he got his bearings, Hannibal looked at Will again, but rested his eyes on Will's nose, cheek or forehead in turn. The man sitting across from him was still Doctor Graham, but was not the same man he had shaken hands with in the waiting room. The chipper friendliness – perhaps an act to welcome shyer, lonely patients – had mellowed to a calm openness. A mask deemed unsuitable and set aside for another. Hannibal didn't know whether to feel reassured because of his own familiarity with the dance of masks, or daunted upon realizing that he would be as blind reading Will as Will would be with reading Hannibal in turn.

 

"Giving up so easily?" he wondered when the silence turned heavy between them.

 

"Force breeds resentment," Will said. "You will tell me when you are ready. For now, I have a deal for you." Hannibal frowned at the certainty in Will's words, but he was listening. "I will clear you to return to active duty if you agree to ongoing sessions. I will include this as a requirement on your clearance note."

 

Hannibal remained wary. "Why?"

 

"Because then we will both get what we want. You can resume your work uninterrupted," Will inclined his head in acknowledgement. "And I can hope that you may become more forthcoming once your main goal is achieved. You will not need to lie and provide the answers you feel I most likely wish to hear to clear you for duty."

 

"I'm not a fan of therapy."

 

"So you have been through therapy in the past." Will was met with pointed silence. Will shrugged and crossed one leg over his other knee, unperturbed by the walls he kept encountering. Will was dangerous; he would keep nudging parts of Hannibal's walls until he found a brick that gave, even an inch. And then he would keep pushing. "We have approximately thirty minutes left, setting aside the time we will need to sign all the proper paperwork. What would you like to talk about?"

 

"How will confidentiality work, if you're paid by the FBI?" Hannibal asked with genuine concern. True, some of his past was in that file sitting beside Will's elbow, but certainly not all of it. Not what he didn't want in there. Not that Hannibal really expected to let anything slip here in therapy but Will was cunning and Hannibal had to protect himself.

 

"The FBI will pay for this visit as you were sent here for their testing and can – if they wish to – ask details of what we discussed," Will explained. "All future appointments they will not be funding and all information will be kept in strict confidentiality between us."

 

Hannibal felt a sickening dip in his stomach. As much as he hated to admit it... "I can't afford—"

 

"There will be no charge."

 

"Out of the goodness of your heart, then."

 

Will gave a tiny snort of laughter. "I find you interesting, Hannibal. The sessions will be free of charge as they are for my own curiosity. If you gain some resolution or sense of peace from these sessions, I will consider that to be a very fortunate by-product."

 

"Not exactly conventional," Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

 

Will's smile was knowing – too knowing. "Would you appreciate me being false with you?" Hannibal pursed his lips and did not answer, which was answer enough. Will checked his watch. "Twenty five minutes left. What will be our next topic?"

 

Will had ruffled enough of Hannibal's feathers; it was time to return the favour. "Do you always dress so..." he pretended to struggle for a polite word while he took in Will's clothes. Blue slacks, brown dockers boots, plain belt, and a pale gray button-up shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. "Casual?"

 

"It usually makes my patients feel at ease," Will said. "It's rare for one of them to out-dress me as you have. Though..." Hannibal braced himself, recognizing now that if he was going to take a hit at Will, he had better be prepared to take a matching one in return. "It's not exactly the outfit you want, is it?"

 

"What makes you say that?" Hannibal would make Will work for his jab.

 

Hannibal regretted asking when it invited Will's sharp eyes onto his body. He tried to ignore the weight of Will's gaze. "The make is perfectly fitting; you clearly appreciate tailored work. The fabric is... lacking." The fact that the fabric had been the best Hannibal could afford hung in the air, not needing to be voiced for them both to know. "I can assure you that you make it work."

 

"You don't need to lie. I do not require coddling," Hannibal warned.

 

"I already made it clear that I know you will not entertain falsities." Hannibal barely managed to stop himself before his fingers gripped the legs of his pants tellingly.

 

It had been a long time since he had been left not knowing what to say. Will was being bold to get a rise out of Hannibal, to make Hannibal jump his walls and reveal more than he planned. Will was too good at this. It made Hannibal want to run, but he refused to admit defeat. He would need to regroup and come back prepared. "Can we end our session now, please?" he kept his tone polite and calm. "I have some pressing work I must get back to."

 

"Do we have a deal?"

 

Will was so put together in his seat across from Hannibal. He knew the answer already. Will didn't need Hannibal to voice it, but would make Hannibal say it anyway. "Yes."

 

"Good." Hannibal read contained triumph in Will's face before the psychiatrist stood up and walked over to his desk, grabbed a notebook, and returned to his seat. "Bear with me. Your clearance letter will only take a minute." Hannibal listened to the scratch of pen against thick paper and watched the scrawl of Will's hand in motion. When Will finished, he did not relinquish the letter. Instead he set the sheet of paper aside and turned to a new page in the notebook. "What day and time works best?"

 

There was no point fighting this, at least not right now. At the moment Hannibal was itching to get back out into the field and track down the killer thoughtful enough to leave him a welcoming gift. "Barring nights when I get called to a crime scene, my last lecture on Friday ends at six," he offered tiredly. "I could get dinner and be here for seven."

 

"You teach?" Hannibal raised a quizzical eyebrow at the question until Will tapped Hannibal's file again, untouched. "Haven't read a word."

 

"Yes," Hannibal said. Each truth felt like a confession in Doctor Graham's office. "I teach."

 

Will hummed but said nothing more on the matter at that time. Hannibal was grateful. Will scratched some more words onto his second sheet of paper and tore it out with less ceremony than Hannibal's clearance letter. The two sheets were then paired with some loose forms from the top of Hannibal's file and the collection was handed over to Hannibal to look over. Hannibal signed the confidentiality agreement and the release of information form after confirming it was only filled out for that day's date.

 

He returned the forms and kept the letter and additional sheet with Will's name, ' _Fridays at 7pm_ ', and a phone number listed. "Fridays at 7pm," he recounted as he moved to the door and hesitated.

 

Will stood from his chair but did not approach, giving Hannibal space. His eyes held a promise Hannibal refused to study. "Consider it a standing appointment."

 

Hannibal left without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

Will struggled to concentrate for the rest of the day after his first session with Hannibal Lecter. He had not been expecting the crossing of their paths quite this early, or for the situation to so conveniently slot Hannibal into Will's office, though he would be lying if he said he was not pleased by the turn of events. Hannibal had been a brick wall, but Will would not have come all this way and made such careful preparations if he had not been interested in such a fine challenge.

 

For the briefest moment their eyes had met and that was when Will knew he had made the right choice in coming to Baltimore. It hadn't been enough for a true empathetic transference, but behind his ribcage Will had felt a sense of aching familiarity; one that drew him in with a potentially lethal strength.

 

He would continue to circle. It would take time and significant effort to gain the comfort and trust of Hannibal, but Will was certain that he could make the man fold. The only enemy was Will's eagerness. His first kill in a year had been a gift, and he wanted to know Hannibal's mind in processing that gift. Hannibal had to have seen the body by the time he attended his session with Will, yet the only hint Will had received to the gift's importance to Hannibal was the profiler's urgency to get back to work.

 

Will listened vaguely to his final two sessions for the day, performing a record of affirming and thoughtful noises at the correct times to prompt his patients into another tangent until the hour was up and they were thanking him on their way out the door. At last when he was alone, Will grabbed the leftovers he had packed and placed in the backroom fridge, heated them up, and sat at his desk with Hannibal's FBI file.

 

Will was not entirely pleased with this method; it felt like cheating. However, he would take whatever information he could get and then use that to tailor his future approaches. The file held all of Hannibal's previous psych evaluations as well as certain details of his past that could act as potential triggers. Namely, the violent murder of his parents and younger sister. _Mischa_. Will logged the name away and continued reading. Months of therapy following the murders before Hannibal was finally released and came to the United States.

 

A childhood like that would explain both the urge to join law enforcement and the hatred of therapy. Perhaps it had been in his initial therapy where Hannibal had learned such a convincing act of normalcy. Knowing that he was only speculating and did not yet know the inner workings of Hannibal's mind left a bitter aftertaste on Will's tongue, but Will assured himself that it was only a matter of time. Besides, it would be the peeling back of Hannibal's layers – like stripping away skin to expose the muscle and bone beneath – that would be most fun.

 

There was a quiet knock at the door and Will closed the file on his desk before standing. After slotting a pen in his shirt front pocket, Will made his way to the door and opened it with a blank expression, not knowing who to expect on the other side. A darker-skinned man stood waiting, and though he was burly and had a strong frame, Will felt no threat from him. The man was dressed well and took off his hat before pulling out his FBI badge to present to Will. "Agent Jack Crawford," he introduced himself. "You must be Doctor Graham?"

 

"I am," Will said and took a step back after confirming the identity on the badge. "How may I be of assistance?"

 

"I'm the superior officer of Hannibal Lecter," Jack explained as he stepped into the office but remained only a few paces from the door. "I understand he had a session with you today. I got your clearance letter." Will nodded but remained silent. Hannibal's superiors had the ability to ask him questions but that was on them; Will had no intention of giving information freely. Jack continued, unbothered by the beat of silence. "He was very adamant to me about not wanting to be involved in any sort of therapy. I need him on this new case but I want to make sure he's..."

 

"Stable."

 

"Yeah," Jack chuckled.

 

"He is as stable as anyone could be in his line of work," Will stated. _Too stable_ , maybe. But that was a knot of issues Will looked forward to untangling himself. "I feel no hesitation in returning him to his work in the field. Especially since this new case you mentioned appears rather serious."

 

"You could say that," Jack sighed but did not provide further details. "Let's just say I'm glad to have my best profiler on the job."

 

Will smiled slightly, remembering the impatience to return to work that Hannibal had forgotten to mask. "He is glad to be back to it, I can assure you." Jack didn't seem to have anything else he wanted to say or ask, but an idea had come to Will and he would not miss out on this opportunity. "As I said before, I have no qualms about Hannibal being on active duty. He and I will continue our sessions privately. But until he has grown more comfortable in opening up, would it be possible for me to tag along some day? Seeing him work will assist me in helping him, I feel."

 

Jack seemed surprised but not upset by the suggestion. "I don't see why not, as long as you've already signed all the proper forms."

 

"All of the waivers and privacy agreements are in my consulting file, yes," Will confirmed.

 

"It's fine by me then," Jack shrugged and then held out a hand, which Will shook readily before Jack began to make his way back to Will's office door. "Hannibal won't be pleased though," Jack warned as an afterthought.

 

Will's lips curled upward. "Leave him to me."

 

#

 

Will had no appointments booked the following day. He made copies of Hannibal's psych evaluation reports, jotted down a few pieces of information he didn't want to forget from Hannibal's file, and then slotted the notebook into its new home on the shelves for his patients. Will drove back to the FBI's office to drop off the paper copy of the file, its uses dried up. Then he returned home, collected Winston and his fishing gear, and made the hour-long drive to one of his favourite streams in a rugged, unused forest. No one ever stumbled across him in this forest, and it was Will's favourite place to enjoy some silence and privacy.

 

The waders Will wore were not enough to fully hold back the coldness of the water, but Will had dressed appropriately. Winston splashed through the shallowest water for a few minutes until the water's chill seeped to his bones and then he curled up in the warm blanket Will had spread out for him. Will remained in the water long enough that his toes went numb in his boots, but the discomforts of his physical body barely registered while his mind was far off and focused on his planning.

 

Starting with a pattern would make the FBI eager, chomping at the bit as they convinced themselves they were _so close_ to catching him. Snatching it away again would leave them in a disordered frenzy. Will wondered how Hannibal would react, if he would be thrown off by the frustration of things not going the way he would grow to expect.

 

He would need to set his tableaus a few days before his sessions with Hannibal; give the profiler time to digest and then regurgitate any information about his thoughts on the crime scenes he was willing to share with Will. The more Will gave Hannibal to stew over, the easier it would be to trigger the bursting of the dam Hannibal maintained so meticulously.

 

Will would lead Hannibal in an intricate dance and watch closely to see if Hannibal stumbled or kept pace with him when the direction of their dance took an abrupt turn or stop. Will would be invisible in this dance but his influence would be undeniable. Would Hannibal realize? How long would it take? Will didn't need to hide the bliss from his face at the thought of leading Hannibal around in a private dance all their own. It was only for them. No one else would be able to keep up.

 

Hannibal would be an exquisite instrument to play.

 

Will finally relented to nature when the cold had clawed up his shins and into his knees and thighs. Everything felt stiff but Will was satisfied with the day and the plans he had made. He took the time to scale and gut the fish he had caught and pack them away to take home for dinner. Will had long since grown tired of the taste of normal meats, even with the variety of ways he could prepare it.

 

He yearned to taste human flesh again, but needed to refrain. Will had no doubt that Hannibal would link this new killer to the Louisiana Lure if organs started to go missing. That hint would have to wait on the horizon until the opportune time. Will had already decided that he wanted to share the first human flesh he consumed after over a year with Hannibal, and their relationship was a long way off from the point when Hannibal would be accepting dinner invitations.

 

Still, it was something to look forward to.

 

#

 

It was only six and Will had already eaten dinner. Knowing he had an hour left before Hannibal would arrive for his first real session, Will forced calmness over himself and busied himself with sketching by the fire. His cell phone rang a few minutes later and Will, having already programmed Hannibal's information into his phone, saw Hannibal's name flashing on the screen. "Hello Hannibal," Will greeted after accepting the call.

 

If Hannibal was caught off guard, he didn't let it show. "Doctor Graham."

 

"Will, please."

 

Hannibal did not acknowledge the comment. "I will not be able to attend our session tonight. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you. I only just received a call myself to attend a crime scene."

 

Will ignored the pang of disappointment and frustration in his gut. He kept his voice calm, but low. "If you skip appointments I may need to take that as a sign of regression."

 

"I understand," Hannibal said smoothly. "I will be there beginning next Friday, if that is suitable."

 

Why did he have to be so polite? "I suppose it can't be helped."

 

"Goodnight, Doctor Graham."

 

Will had not missed the fact that Hannibal had not yet called him Will once. Another step that would come with time, he was certain. Hannibal had terminated the call but Will held his phone aloft, thoughts churning quickly. Then he selected a new phone number from his contact list and held the ringing phone to his ear.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Agent Crawford, this is Will Graham."

 

"What can I do for you, doctor?" Jack asked, not as polite as he could've been but clearly preoccupied. If Will strained his hearing he believed he could make out the hum of tires on pavement.

 

"I just received a call from Mister Lecter indicating that he would be unable to attend our session tonight," Will said lightly, as though the news barely meant anything one way or the other.

 

"Yeah, I called him out to a crime scene. Duty calls," Jack laughed.

 

Will didn't bother pretending to smile; there was no one to act for. "Would it be acceptable for me to attend as we previously discussed?"

 

There was a brief silence as Jack deliberated with himself. They both knew there was no reason for Will's request to be denied. "I suppose. I'll give you the directions and I'll meet you there so I can give you clearance."

 

Will wrote down the directions, thanked Jack, and hung up. He pulled on his coat, scarf and hat and pocketed the scrap of paper, his phone and his keys. It wouldn't be a far drive; fifteen minutes straight out of town by Will's guess. He pulled onto a side street a few miles away and took a moment to school his features, choosing which mask to slot over his blank eyes.

 

He could not show his petty jealousy at another's kill stealing Hannibal's attention. Nor could he show the true scope of his eagerness at watching Hannibal in motion, in his element. Even his mask of a therapist would have Hannibal on the immediate defensive. Will decided finally on displaying his genuine desire to understand, but removed the heat of his hunger from his eyes. Will was not concerned about Hannibal seeing him standing beside a dead body, Will's kill or otherwise. He had spent so many years learning to hide behind masks made up of the emotions he emulated from others, to wade through society unnoticed.

 

The portrayal of his true nature on his face was an expression known only by the dead.

 

Satisfied, Will pulled back onto the road and crossed the last few miles quickly. He knew when he was getting close judging by the flashing of red and blue lights in a cluster just off the side of the road and next to a cornfield. Will parked his car where there was room off the road and got out, pulling his coat closed tighter against the wind that had the corn stalks rustling and whispering to one another. A uniformed cop met him up at the police tape and a minute or so later Jack arrived and confirmed with those patrolling the area that Will had clearance.

 

There was a path cut through the corn, trampled down by the killer, the cops or both. Regardless, the stalks on either side towered over them and Will could imagine getting very easily lost if he was alone and without a direct path back to the road. He could wander for hours. He found the thought relaxing. Will knew they were approaching the crime scene when the flattened corn expanded into a wider circle, most certainly caused by the circling FBI agents.

 

Jack stepped ahead but Will held back, nearly among the corn stalks, his eyes fixed in the sight laid out in front of him. The naked body of a woman was bound to a cross made of two wooden posts with barbed wire wound around each limb, leaves from the corn stalks woven into her hair. Will would guess by the deep lacerations to the woman's neck, wrists, abdomen and thighs that she had been bled out here, even though it was too dark to distinguish the blood-soaked soil from the rest of the ground.

 

And in front of it all, was Hannibal. He had his hands held loosely behind his back, his shoulders relaxed, his face staring up at the unseeing eyes of the dead woman without a tick of emotion in his body. Will had arrived behind him and remained out of Hannibal's awareness, which he planned to continue for as long as possible. Will read every inch of Hannibal's body and felt the hunger in the pit of his stomach mount.

 

Those who were new to this sort of job or were not fit for it fidgeted openly at these sorts of sights, emotional and psychologically distraught even if they tried not to be. Those who were veterans had grown a hardened shell against the horrors of life, death and suffering, but still showed discomfort in the hunching of shoulders, the clenching of fingers or the refusal to allow a lingering gaze.

 

Hannibal was calm, if not at peace. Thinking back to the notes in Hannibal's file about the death of his family, Will wondered if Hannibal was affected by the death of any, or only a select few. Would Hannibal's stomach churn with anger or sadness at the death of women? Children? Animals? Criminals? Was it death that was the trigger that urged Hannibal into law enforcement, or merely the frustration born from the injustice of death to those undeserving?

 

Will would not know, yet. Hannibal's trust was still something for Will to earn, and his body gave nothing away. Hannibal's shoulders were relaxed, his hands held together loosely, and his feet planted firmly. Will could move closer and attempt to read Hannibal through his face and eyes, but he was hesitant to make Hannibal aware of his presence, knowing the reaction he would receive. Instead Will held back by the corn stalks, watching and straining his hearing to listen in as Jack stood by Hannibal's side and the two of them discussed theories.

 

It sounded like they had a few concrete guesses about who the killer could be, judging from some prior victims they had discovered recently in similar circumstances. Will had a few ideas of his own but would hold back for the time being. He hadn't come to Baltimore to help them catch other killers; he had already had nightmares of the life that would create for him – dragged along by a leash held tightly in FBI hands, directing his empathy at whatever they didn't understand. No, Will was not here for that. But he would kill off anyone who consistently competed with him for Hannibal's time, attention, and intrigue.

 

Will's eyes never left the back of Hannibal's head. Perhaps Hannibal had felt it, because between sentences Hannibal glanced over his shoulder, found Will in the shadows, and allowed his eyes to narrow ever so slightly. Will watched with pride as Hannibal adjusted his stance, turning to face Jack fully with Will in his periphery as he continued with his next sentence as if nothing was out of the ordinary. To Jack it probably looked like Hannibal was giving him his full attention, rather than the dead body. Will knew otherwise.

 

Hannibal's survival instincts were strong enough to tell him not to keep a predator out of sight at his back. Will's hum was animalistic, primal, and heard by no one but the wind sighing through the corn.

 

Will slid his hands into his pockets and waited for Hannibal to finish his conversation with Jack. When his voice grew so low that Will could not make out the words, he knew Hannibal was having words with Jack about Will being present. Jack had a few words in return that seemed enough to bring the discussion to an abrupt end. Jack patted Hannibal's shoulder – Will caught the flinch at the corner of Hannibal's eye at the contact – and then walked past him to talk with some of the lab techs working on the scene.

 

Hannibal remained where he was, dead body and Will both pinned in his peripheral vision. Will approached slowly, relishing in the way Hannibal's body would tighter beneath his coat with each of Will's steps. How enjoyable it was to watch Hannibal react to Will so strongly, when the corpse strung up with barbed wire earned only fleeting attention compared to Will.

 

It was Will who stood alongside Hannibal and looked beyond him to the body. The vision was interesting, certainly, but the craftsmanship was sloppy, rushed. There was no respect here, only misplaced hatred and grief. "What do you think?" Will prompted Hannibal, who Will knew was still watching him without having to look.

 

"I think that this is a very unexpected surprise to find your company out in a cornfield with a dead body," Hannibal said. He too turned back to the body, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder. The buzz of the rest of the FBI moving around them was like a distant drone, on a different state of reality than the plane he occupied with Hannibal. "Were you so disappointed that I could not attend our session?"

 

"I figured this would be more insightful than the two of us sitting across from one another refusing to talk of anything meaningful," Will said truthfully, sidestepping the question. "This is your work, and what drives you, is it not?"

 

"You read my file, then."

 

"A subpar substitute, but yes." Will would've missed the tightening of Hannibal's jaw if not for all the lights the FBI had set up around the crime scene. Hannibal seemed unwilling to tread further down the topic of himself and his own psyche, so Will prompted again. "Any thoughts on the killer?"

 

"A few."

 

"Only a few?"

 

Hannibal's nostrils flared. Will was enamoured with the tells Hannibal could not stifle.

 

"The way the killer bound her in the wire is untidy work, and there is no passion in the cuts to her arteries," Hannibal spoke certainly. "There is anger here, but also regret. The killer was betrayed by someone and lashed out, but realized halfway through the act that killing this girl as a substitute will not make him feel better." Hannibal's eyes assessed her naked body clinically, looking at the deep gashes. "But he didn't care enough to stop before he went too far."

 

Will had lost interest in the body. His attention rested solely on Hannibal. Because Hannibal – closed off, obstinate Hannibal – was showing off for Will. Whether he was consciously aware of this or if he had simply slipped and indulged an impulse, Will didn't care. Will knew Hannibal was good; he had never had any doubt. But witnessing it, watching Hannibal in action without the aid of an empathy disorder, was something else entirely. Will wanted to dig his nails beneath flesh to feel Hannibal's inner workings. He wanted to kiss Hannibal just to taste his fight.

 

"And you?" A blatant challenge, and a hint to back down.

 

Will would do no such thing. "I think the killer cannot enact the punishment he desires on the one who hurt him, and acted out on whoever was available and easy. There's no mastery or challenge here. Only grief and a frustration at a lack of resolution. My guess would be that the killer lost someone important from their lives, either through death or by someone choosing to leave and live a life elsewhere." Hannibal was still facing the body but Will noticed each time his eyes skirted sideways to look at Will. "My bet would be loss from death."

 

"A religious person," Hannibal picked up the threads of Will's hypothesis while barely noticing, weaving a more detailed image. "Angry with their god for taking this person away. Angry with the person for some misguided belief that they allowed themselves to be taken away."

 

"Guilt at believing something as foolish as the idea that they had a choice."

 

"Frustration that the result is complete loneliness, regardless of reasoning."

 

"Newlyweds, maybe," Will mused. "A happily-ever-after cut short."

 

"An expecting mother-to-be." Their eyes both trained on the cut across the woman's abdomen.

 

"Got something else for me, Hannibal?" Jack barged in between them.

 

Will could visibly see the moment when Hannibal snapped out of his reverie. The urge to wrap fishing twine in loops around Jack's neck, pull tight, and watch the man wither into nonexistence was consuming. Will had to fall back on his mask of blankness to avoid any powerful emotions escaping him. Thankfully Hannibal, who seemed very ruffled upon realizing how in sync he had briefly been with Will, refused to look at him again.

 

Hannibal updated Jack on their new insights and Will stood by, though he already knew that it was pointless. Their shared moment had been broken and would not be re-established while Hannibal felt so unsettled. Sure enough, as soon as Jack turned from Hannibal to Will to ask his outsider opinion, Hannibal gave Will one last speculative look and then disappeared down the path. By the time Will was able to shake off Jack and make it back to the road, Hannibal was long gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend and following week passed quickly for Hannibal. Between his lectures, the final essays he had to grade for his students, and his FBI work, Hannibal was rarely home long enough to do more than shower, eat and sleep. In the wee hours of the morning on Monday Hannibal had been woken by his cell phone and Jack's gruff voice barking out directions. Hannibal found himself staring at another dead woman cut in the same places and strung up in an abandoned barn, the sunrise sneaking in through the loose wooden walls to accent her pale, washed-out skin.

 

Hannibal tried and failed to stop himself from rubbing at his eyes and yawning through his morning lecture, which he had barely made it to in the first place. He was distracted and knew his students could tell, though they said nothing. It was hard for Hannibal to reiterate facts about a research study they were all reviewing when his mind was working on a profile. Two, in fact, though the dead woman killed and carved with ' _Welcome_ ' had momentarily fallen from the forefront of his attention.

 

His students left silently when the lecture was concluded but Hannibal had no hope of returning to his apartment anytime soon. Hannibal grimaced through a meal from the building's cafeteria and then holed himself up in his office, sitting down with the piles of files Jack had left at his request. All they had found at the crime scene was a partial fingerprint on a piece of barbed wire, which was useless in the system unless they had a full print to compare it to. The print had pulled up thirty six files of people with priors, and Hannibal was going to do his best to determine if any of them were their killer.

 

Sixteen Hannibal set aside for various reasons; age, primarily, as these two deaths struck Hannibal as motivated by young, broken love. Seven of the files had not been recently updated and Hannibal put them in a separate pile, trying to work with the information he had first before he would have to dig further. That left thirteen files full of criminal records, last known residence for parole, and so on.

 

Hannibal was forced to endure another subpar meal from the cafeteria and shortly after dragging himself back to his office, promptly fell asleep. Hannibal was jarred awake nearly one hour later because of his phone and he snatched it up quickly to check the caller ID. He didn't know why he was mildly disappointed when he saw Jack's name again, other than the fact that he didn't have any answers to offer. He considered ignoring the call but knew Jack would keep calling until Hannibal answered. Hannibal attempted to massage the kink out of his neck from falling asleep slumped in his office chair while he updated Jack on his minimal progress, and made promises to stay as long as he had to.

 

He lost track of the constant _tick-tick_ of the clock on the wall. Hannibal hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep again until a warm hand squeezed his shoulder. Despite the unexpected touch, Hannibal came out of sleep slowly, blinking blurrily a few times before he realized it was Will's hand on his shoulder and regained enough sense to shrug him off. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, though he was still too deep in his sleepy haze to sound scolding.

 

"Jack called me and said you were working late," Will explained as he leaned against Hannibal's desk, close but not too close. "I suggested I come since we worked well together in the field."

 

"A fluke."

 

"Doubtful." Hannibal had nothing to say. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep through the rest of the week – including his session with Will on Friday, ideally. "If I can be of assistance then let me help," Will coaxed.

 

Hannibal pinched the bridge of his nose, prayed for patience, and gave a brief summary of his work so far. He had read each of the files multiple times and the information came easily from his expansive memory. A part of him questioned his motives for even humouring Will at all, but Hannibal decided that if this meant he could go home sooner, it may be worth it. Will picked up a few of the files and leafed through them, though his focus remained primarily on Hannibal's words.

 

As Hannibal woke up more fully from his unplanned nap, his droning summary turned into an energetic debate with Will. They worked through the files again, discarding ones they were certain to be mismatches. Hannibal didn't keep track of time because his exhaustion had fallen to the background. Sleep wasn't even on his mind when he and Will finally decided on files for three possible suspects, stacked in a pile in front of Hannibal's chair. Will had remained at Hannibal's side for the entire conversation but had never pushed his personal boundaries.

 

"If it's not one of these three then I'll quit my job," Will said, both confident and playful.

 

"Does that mean I don't have to attend your sessions?" Hannibal hummed. He rested his hands on top of the stack of three files, wondering which would be worse: being wrong, or having to continue indulging Will?

 

"Would it be worth it?" Will questioned.

 

Hannibal answered after only a brief pause. "No."

 

Will smiled, delighted by Hannibal's response. It was that image which Hannibal woke up with, Will's smile swimming behind his eyes. A quick glance around the office and at the clock on the wall indicated that Hannibal was alone, and had been asleep since shortly after Jack's phone call. There was no indication that Will had ever been in his office, though his memory of the dream stayed sharp. Hannibal rifled through the stack of thirteen files and pulled out the three names he and Will – _no_ , just Hannibal – had decided on.

 

He read through each of the three files in closer detail and, when he was satisfied, put sticky notes on the cover of each with a _#1, #2,_ and _#3_. Jack was at home with his wife by this late hour and when Hannibal called, he got voicemail. Hannibal left a quick message providing an update – minus the experience of his revelation – and stating that Jack could find the three files on his desk as soon as he was in the office. Jack could pick up the files, track down the three people, and interrogate them.

 

While Hannibal generally enjoyed watching or participating in the interrogation of suspects, putting his profiling skills to good use, he was not strictly required for that step. And Hannibal refused to sleep in his office to wait until the ungodly hour when Jack would check his voicemail out of habit and drag himself into the office. Once on his way out to his car Hannibal checked his call history, but no one had called after his first call with Jack.

 

Hannibal kept his mind purposefully blank, refusing to psychoanalyze himself or his dreams. He made it home as quickly as was safe despite tiredness tugging at him again, and Hannibal was relieved when he fell into bed and slept through the night without a single memorable dream.

 

#

 

Friday came too fast. The rest of Hannibal's week had turned into a blur of teaching, the chase and capture of Anthony Brigg – Hannibal's #1 guess, who was not a hardened killer and broke in the first ten minutes of interrogation – too much coffee and not enough sleep. To top it all off, Hannibal had felt nerves cramp his stomach all afternoon during his Friday lecture, which was a sensation he had not experienced in a very long time. He told himself it was due to hunger and, when a quick dinner solved nothing, assured himself that one dream about Will didn't mean anything.

 

The waiting room was empty like the first time when Hannibal entered. A receptionist was at the desk this time, and she offered Hannibal a warm, welcoming smile. Her hair was a dark enough brown to look black without the proper lighting, but her eyes were bright and blue. Hannibal returned a polite smile but felt his stomach twist into tighter knots when he saw the woman was powering down her computer and pulling on her coat.

 

"I'm Vanessa, Doctor Graham's receptionist. You're Hannibal Lecter, right?" He nodded and she smiled wider. "I was sick last time you were here but Doctor Graham gave me a description and told me to expect you."

 

She tugged on a hat and hooked her purse on an arm. "You're not staying?" Hannibal asked.

 

"No," Vanessa chuckled. "Normally I only work until six, which is when Doctor Graham's last session usually ends. I'm not needed after that. But," she dug around in one of the drawers of her desk and pulled out a small brass key. "He asked me to stay late tonight and give you this. I won't be here when you arrive from now on and I lock the doors for security reasons while Doctor Graham is upstairs."

 

"And this key...?" Hannibal's hand hesitated over the key lying innocently on the desk top. Hannibal _knew_ what that key opened.

 

"An office key, yes," Vanessa encouraged. No question in her face, and no judgement. Whatever assumptions she had made for herself about Will's reasoning for leaving a key with a patient, she was not going to voice them here. "Do you have any questions before I head out?"

 

"No, thank you." Hannibal pocketed the key and watched Vanessa leave and lock up behind her. It didn't matter that Hannibal had the key to unlock the very same door. Being alone in the building with Will felt too constricting, too much like being lured into the cage of a wild beast under false pretences.

 

Will was seated in his chair opposite the empty one awaiting Hannibal's presence. Will had his head back and resting against the top of the chair, his eyes closed. Hannibal hesitated halfway through removing his coat, wondering if he could sneak out and explain later that he had chosen it as the best course of action upon finding Will asleep. He didn't get that far.

 

"Don't even think about it." Will hadn't moved an inch, his eyes still closed. "If you were going to run with your tail between your legs, you should've done so from the waiting room."

 

Will was goading him again, triggering that same instinct that made Hannibal share his thoughts aloud with Will in the cornfield. A desire to meet and surpass a challenge, and to impress. Hannibal knew the trick, recognized it, but was too stubborn to let Will win by running. He hung up his coat and scarf on the coat rack by the door and took his seat across from Will, who remained in place with his head back and eyes closed. Will said Hannibal had to show up, but that didn't mean he could force Hannibal to talk.

 

They sat for twenty two minutes in silence. The fire crackled in the corner but even that turned into background static to Hannibal's ears after a few minutes. Hannibal stayed seated the way he had first settled, one leg crossed loosely over the other, and hands in his lap. He avoided fidgeting with his hands or his phone. Hannibal felt like he was in a competition where he didn't know the rules, didn't know what actions to avoid to ensure he didn't lose.

 

In an attempt to match Will at his own game, Hannibal leaned his own head back and closed his eyes. It really had been a long week, and resting his eyes felt good. That was, until Hannibal felt his consciousness begin to fade and he had to force himself to sit up straight again, refusing to do something as embarrassing as fall asleep in Will's office. Trying to keep himself awake slowly grated on Hannibal's nerves though, making him think about bed instead of wasting time here. He couldn't even chide Will since Hannibal wasn't paying for this session.

 

Still, "This is a waste of your time and mine."

 

Instantly Will sat up straight, eyes resting comfortably on Hannibal across the space between them. "Is it?"

 

"Is it not?"

 

Will checked his watch. "Well, I now know that you'll give in to the urge to speak after twenty two minutes of silence." Hannibal frowned and Will smiled in opposition. "And I can bet that you just made a mental promise to outdo yourself and wait longer next time."

 

Hannibal had lost this battle, and he knew it.

 

"There are more useful things I could be doing with my time."

 

"Only because you refuse to let this become a useful slice of time," Will said.

 

Hannibal's traitorous thoughts flitted back to his dream of himself and Will working through the case files together before he brushed the memory aside. "You coerced me into coming."

 

"Don't pretend to be less clever than you are. It's unbecoming," Will berated a little harshly. "You could've told Jack what I said and gone to a different psychiatrist on the FBI list. Being here is your choice, as is whether or not you talk."

 

"I could come every week and refuse to talk and waste an hour of our lives each time," Hannibal tried to threaten but it was an empty one because the only one who was bothered by the wasted time was Hannibal himself.

 

"You won't, eventually. You wouldn't have given in to coming at all if a part of you didn't want to talk," Will speculated aloud. "You just don't know if you can trust me yet."

 

"You're bound by confidentiality." Will sent Hannibal an unimpressed look implying that they both knew they were talking about a deeper trust than that. The trust to let someone truly see you, understand you, and hope for support rather than rejection "Can I trust you?"

 

"Will you allow me the chance to prove it to you?"

 

Hannibal wanted to say no. He wanted to say yes. Hannibal said neither. Instead, as his finger brushed the outline of the new key in his pocket, he asked, "Why did you give me a key to your office?"

 

"You can't expect to earn trust if you don't give some in return," Will said. "And I wanted you to have it."

 

They barely knew each other, had barely been in the other's company for more than a few hours. And Hannibal knew that the information in his FBI file was not enough to give Will a sense of familiarity with Hannibal's mind. Will certainly didn't pretend to know everything about Hannibal, shown by his repeated prods to get Hannibal to open up and share the inner workings of his mind. Yet Will somehow spoke and acted like they were two long-lost friends, separated by the world for their entire lives and finally reunited. Will behaved as though he and Hannibal had been born to be a pair, and Hannibal's hesitance was a natural barrier that would inevitably crumble into acceptance.

 

The problem was how appealing the idea was, and how difficult it was becoming for Hannibal to fight that urge to bend – just an inch – in his resolve just to see what would happen, to see if Will could prove himself to be more than just words. Ever since the death of his family, Hannibal had been alone. Over the years a few people had come into his life and had subsequently vanished. Some had left him by choice when they came to know him too well and witnessed the darkness caged deep inside him. The others had been torn from him violently, meeting some tragic end or another.

 

It was easier – _safer_ – to not let anyone get too close. Better to avoid the crushing weight of loss, or the poisonous sting of betrayal at being abandoned and cast aside.

 

Would Will prove Hannibal's fears right, or wrong?

 

Hannibal was too tired to test the waters tonight. The week had been too long. "Maybe next week."

 

The thread of conversation had become disjointed by his inner musings, but Will seemed to understand. Will looked happy, but not gloating, which Hannibal appreciated. "It has been a long week for you," Will said. "I saw that you caught that killer from the cornfield. There was an article in the newspaper."

 

"I wouldn't know," Hannibal admitted. "I tend to avoid the news whenever possible."

 

"Why is that?"

 

Hannibal was willing to let one tiny piece of himself go. "It's all biases and sensationalism. I'm given the information I'm needed to do my job when I'm there. At home, I prefer not to dwell in death and despair."

 

"Very sensible," Will said, though his tone didn't necessarily make it clear he agreed. "May I ask how you determined it was Anthony Brigg?" It was obvious that a second hadn't passed where Will didn't think Hannibal was primarily responsible for the capture of the killer. Through his building tiredness, Hannibal felt a little ball of pride burn in his chest like a mini sun. That was slightly muted by the memory of his dream of Will that had led to the revelation; _that_ was definitely too much information to entrust with Will right now. Will picked up on his silence. "Even that answer requires trust? If you had just said you used your profiler skills I might've let it slide," Will was amused.

 

Half asleep in Will's office, Hannibal barely noticed his lips quirking up to mirror Will's amusement. It was too late to stop the movement and he knew Will would've seen it. "It came to me in a dream," he took on a lofty tone in an attempt to dispel some of Will's anticipation at prying deeper.

 

"Which you appear to be in danger of returning to shortly," Will said, voice softened by mild concern. "Let's wrap up this session early. There will always be others."

 

Hannibal hummed, too tired to argue the implication of more. They both knew there would be more. Hannibal rubbed his eyes and forced himself onto his feet, the task of keeping himself balanced enough to spur his mind back into wakefulness. "Next Friday."

 

"Next Friday," Will agreed. Although it wasn't necessary, Will walked Hannibal down to his car which was parked out back, and Hannibal didn't complain.

 

#

 

The following Friday Hannibal arrived at Will's office prepared.

 

During the following week he had come to acknowledge the desire in himself to give Will a chance. If Will disappointed him, so be it; Hannibal would continue on as he always did. But it was an opportunity he decided he would be foolish to reject outright. Besides, if he approached it intelligently, Hannibal could reap benefits as well.

 

Hannibal had witnessed the difference between Will's outwardly friendly and open personality he displayed in the presence of most, and the quiet introspection Will allowed himself to partake in around those who had gained his trust. Hannibal hadn't gained Will's trust anymore than Will had gained Hannibal's, yet, but Will had offered up enough of himself so that Hannibal knew his behaviour was calculated based on his audience.

 

Every emotion Will showed Hannibal felt genuine. Whether he was happy, eager, friendly, quiet, thoughtful, encouraging, challenging, frustrated, disappointed, or anything else along the spectrum, it was all real. It wasn't a question of faking. The trick to Will was that he had full control of the range of his emotions and acted in a way that suited his motives best. And the most important revelation Hannibal had had was that this performance act of Will's was to weave the perception of others in the design he chose. Will was a mirror, reflecting back what people wanted to see so they did not search for cracks or reveal what hid behind the mastery.

 

Will kept his cards close to his chest. Anything shown was a planned move to some larger end. It made Hannibal question each emotion, however genuine they were when played out on Will's face. Was it calculated or reflexive? Will certainly acted open about his thoughts with Hannibal, but was that a ploy? Will spoke of wanting to earn trust but had trust issues of his own. Whatever life he had lived in the past taught him that it was safer going it alone, same as Hannibal's past had taught him.

 

One thing Hannibal did feel certain of was Will's genuine wish to develop an open trust with Hannibal, though Hannibal had not yet determined why he was the one to earn this interest rather than someone else in Will's life. Hannibal wanted to know and understand, which could not be achieved without giving up some of himself in return, but he could at least attempt to strike a balance between them.

 

"Good evening, Will," Hannibal said as he hung up his coat and scarf in an echo of the previous week.

 

The use of his given name caught the psychiatrist's attention as Hannibal knew it would. Will sat up straight and looked over the back of his chair to track Hannibal's movements until they were seated across from one another once again. "Hello, Hannibal," Will purred.

 

Hannibal held back any reaction and brushed invisible dust from his pants for a moment, making Will wait just because he could. Will was patient, placated by the use of his name. "I've thought of a way I might be willing to reveal some information," Hannibal began conversationally. He still refused to meet Will's gaze head-on, having learned his lesson the first time he sat in this chair and not courageous enough to try again. But even with his eyes resting on Will's cheek below the fan of his lower lashes, Hannibal knew he had Will's full attention. "But I want to ensure things remain equal... between us."

 

"Understandable," Will conceded easily. "You may set your terms."

 

"You will tell me something about yourself first," Hannibal stated, having already considered every angle to ensure Will would not weasel his way out of talking about himself. "In return, I will provide a detail about myself that I consider equal in value." This was the safest option Hannibal had thought up, taking into consideration Will's own natural tendency to keep himself shrouded in mystery. Will would be as hesitant about treading into dangerous territory as Hannibal would, but at least Will would always be surrendering a piece of himself first.

 

"Very well..." Will rested an elbow on the armrest of his chair, chin and lips against his curled fingers as he studied Hannibal and pondered where to begin. What topics Will chose would show not only a lot about what he was or was not willing to discuss, but also what aspects of Hannibal's life that Will was most interested in. "Let's start simple. I have a dog named Winston."

 

"I have no pets," Hannibal responded effortlessly.

 

Will's expression remained thoughtful. This would turn into a power play as much as anything else between them did. "I enjoy cooking, but only truly appreciate it if I'm cooking for someone else."

 

Hannibal tapped a finger against his armrest, deliberating. Then he made up his mind to give up just a little big extra. "I wish I had the salary to cook all the meals I plan in my head."

 

"I would like to have you for dinner one night."

 

Hannibal swallowed but tried to keep it from being too obvious. "The likelihood that I would attend is high."

 

Will didn't seem bothered by the slight avoidance of a direct answer. "My favourite season is autumn."

 

"Why?" Hannibal wondered and Will raised an expectant eyebrow. "Mine is winter, because I like the silence of a world blanketed in snow and set to hibernate until spring."

 

"The transformation is always beautiful in autumn, of two seasons fighting for dominance," Will said. "The summer heat clashing with winter's chill, and the world struggling between until it finally relents and gives in to winter's hold."

 

"You've thought about that a lot before now," Hannibal assumed.

 

Will shrugged lightly, a ' _you caught me_ ' sort of amusement. He said nothing further though, his thoughts elsewhere as he chose his next truth. "My perfect day would be..." Hannibal watched Will consciously choose his words carefully. Will would not lie, but at most Hannibal would receive a half-truth here. "Out hunting with Winston."

 

"You hunt?" Hannibal received another look and he huffed, trying to reel in his impatience. The more Will told him, the more Hannibal wanted to know. "An ideal day for me would include a lavish dinner and an evening at the opera before returning home to sip wine by a fireplace."

 

"My father taught me to hunt," Will continued his previous truth without being prompted. "I found more time and opportunity to pursue it in Louisiana where I grew up than here, but I am hoping to return to it on a more frequent basis."

 

"What sort of game?"

 

"I'm not choosy," Will replied. "I suppose I find fishing to be the most relaxing. Standing in the water, listening to it rush around you and feeling the water push against the backs of your legs while you wait."

 

Hannibal could imagine it more easily than he expected. Will in waders, water parting around his thighs or hips depending on the water levels. Will casting his fishing line out in a skilled arc and standing perfectly still, awaiting the moment when his prey noticed the bait and allowed itself to become snared. Hannibal was surprised to think that he might enjoy watching the peacefulness of Will at work pursuing a passion.

 

"Have you ever been to the opera before?"

 

Returning to the present from his imagination took an extra moment. "Once," Hannibal eventually answered. "A few years ago I bought a ticket as a birthday present to myself." And because Will had been forthcoming, Hannibal allowed an ounce of want into his voice. "I would enjoy going again someday."

 

They were both silent for a minute and then the game picked up again. Except Will suddenly pushed it further than Hannibal had anticipated. "My mother left my father and me when I was still young."

 

Hannibal frowned, feeling stung. Even when he studied Will's face, Hannibal couldn't tell if Will was saying this because he wanted to confide in Hannibal, or if he just wanted Hannibal to talk about the death of his family. Will did not elaborate and a part of Hannibal simply wanted to stand up and leave. It was no one's fault but his own though; he had set the rules of this sparring match. "You already know how I lost my family," he accused tightly.

 

"Yes, I do."

 

Will wanted to know Hannibal's thoughts and feelings on the matter, how such a violent loss had shaped his life and who he was as a person. Yet Will had not gone into those details, leaving Hannibal free from an obligation to reciprocate. It was a compulsion that had Hannibal's lips parting again. "They killed Mischa last." He knew his FBI file briefly alluded to the fact that Hannibal had killed the two men who had torn apart his family, but it didn't go into the specifics and thankfully, Will did not ask for them in this moment.

 

"You always strive to be neutral, to pass through life without displaying emotion," Will said, no question in his words seeking confirmation. "But I know you feel in there, beneath your fortified walls. What do you feel?"

 

"Too many things, too strongly."

 

Will stood and Hannibal tracked the movement out of the corner of his eye, though he had turned to face Will's crackling fireplace. "I will return momentarily," Will promised. "Don't leave."

 

Will disappeared through a door between the book cases. Physically Hannibal remained where he was but his mind was far away both in terms of distance and time. It took Will shaking his shoulder to bring him back to the present enough to realize that Will was holding a steaming mug out in offering. Hannibal accepted it and breathed in the smell of honey underlying tea.

 

Will sat back in his seat and together they sipped their tea in silence. Hannibal had edged closer to a breaking point than he normally allowed and he suspected that Will knew how easy it would be to push Hannibal that much further. But Will didn't; he withdrew and offered silent support and comfort instead. The gratitude Hannibal felt was overwhelming, and it wasn't until he had completely finished his mug of tea that he felt centred again.

 

Hannibal sipped his tea slowly enough that by the time he was finished and checked his phone, he found that their session had already edged over an hour. "I should go home," he said but continued to cradle the mug in his hands, the last of the warmth seeping into his palms. "Thank you for the tea."

 

"Anytime, Hannibal," Will said, and Hannibal believed him.

 

That night when Hannibal fell into bed he slept like the dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal hated whoever had slit that woman's throat and carved ' _Welcome_ ' into her belly for Hannibal. Beyond the anger at a decent life being wasted, and the frustration over the fact that the killer was still roaming around in the world, that death had sparked a tidal wave of work for Hannibal to sift through. Details of the case hadn't been leaked to the public but it wasn't copycats that Hannibal had to worry about. Instead, the fact that the killer had left Hannibal a welcoming gift and then disappeared with no hints or trace had put the FBI into a frenzy.

 

Now Hannibal found himself being dragged to every crime scene to look over the body and determine whether or not it belonged to the welcoming killer or someone else. It didn't matter that every single time Hannibal did a quick sweep and shook his head. The FBI didn't know this killer's motivations, or when or how they would strike again, and they wanted Hannibal's eyes on everything. Frankly, Hannibal was getting tired of driving to the middle of nowhere every second night to look over a mangled corpse, driving home, and then dragging himself out of bed to continue his daily life.

 

This was one such evening. On Wednesdays Hannibal's lecture usually wrapped up around 5pm and then he would spend an hour in his office preparing for his next lesson or marking before going home to make dinner and have a glass of wine before bed. Hannibal hadn't even made it to his office, Jack intercepting him at the exit of his lecture hall and herding him into Jack's car. Hannibal pointed out that he could easily drive his own car from the parking lot and follow Jack but his superior was not listening and was already pulling out onto the road. Hannibal could feel a headache coming on.

 

Even though it was only around dinner time, the season made the sun sink behind the horizon early and it was already dark. Hannibal's stomach growled but there was nothing he could do until he had looked at whatever crime scene they had found for him and then wait for Jack to drive him back. Who knew when that would be; Jack usually liked to stalk around a crime scene until even the lab techs were finished their analysis and were ready to head back to the office.

 

Hannibal wasn't sure if it was worse or better when Jack parked in the parking lot on the edge of a large forested park area and he recognized the car beside them. What was Will doing here? Hannibal had had two more sessions with Will where they played their tentative game, Will pushing just enough to find Hannibal's walls, give him a chance to step over the invisible line, and then pull back before causing Hannibal to break. Each session left Hannibal feeling a little more unsettled as cracks began to show in his carefully-constructed walls, yet he was feeling more and more certain that if anyone were to discover those cracks, Will would be the best person to put Hannibal back together again.

 

Regardless, that didn't mean Hannibal wanted to deal with Will out here. This was Hannibal's territory and job, and it didn't feel as safe considering the possibility of opening up to Will here as it did in Will's beautifully-decorated office. However, Hannibal reminded himself that he wasn't paying Will for any therapy, so the location should hardly matter.

 

Without any choice, Hannibal followed Jack out of the car and across the grass. Already he could see the hive of lab techs circling a body left crumpled in the middle of a metal roundabout. Will was standing at the edge of the police tape, awaiting the clearance from Jack as he and Hannibal approached and ducked under the tape. Jack told the uniformed cop that Will was to be let in and then nodded at the psychiatrist. "Thanks for coming, doctor."

 

"No problem," Will said as he joined them on the other side of the tape and made their way towards the body. So Jack had called Will and told him to come, before he had even dragged Hannibal from his lecture hall since Jack hadn't made any calls once they were in the vehicle. As they walked, Will pressed a travel mug into Hannibal's hand nonchalantly before taking a sip from his own. Hannibal took a gulp of his own, using the burn of the liquid to still his tongue before giving Jack a public lashing for inviting Will to another crime scene. Hannibal found his aggravation mellowed slightly by a refreshing whiff of citrus.

 

"What do you think?" Jack asked Hannibal as soon as they were at the edge of the roundabout. The dead body of a boy in his late teens was star-fished in the middle, fully clothed and with a deep gash in his forehead. If someone had found him sooner the boy might've lived, though likely with brain damage. However, he had been left too long in the cold to bleed out, and Hannibal could tell he was beyond resuscitation. "Is it our killer?"

 

"No."

 

"That's all you've got for me; no?" Jack huffed. "How do you _know_? We've only got one dead body. We don't know what the pattern is yet. Anything could be next."

 

"It's not the same one," Hannibal reiterated through clenched teeth. "And you know it as well as I do."

 

"Excuse us a minute," Jack said to Will and then roughly yanked Hannibal away to a patch of deserted grass.

 

Hannibal didn't give Jack time to start up on a rant. "You're acting foolishly," Hannibal informed him boldly. "The death of that woman and the message were meticulous, pre-meditated and purposeful in every detail. This boy likely died from some drunken squabble, with the killer easily rooted out from one of his social circles. This kill was sloppy and unplanned. You don't need me to tell you this," Hannibal pointed out again.

 

"We need to be sure," Jack insisted, though they both knew that Hannibal was right on this. "We can't just let this guy kill that woman and wander off."

 

"We both want to catch this killer but we don't have enough to go on yet." Hannibal was glad that the travel mug in his hand was made of tougher stuff than cardboard with how tightly his fingers were gripping it. "No one wants anyone else to die, but spinning our wheels with nothing tangible and no direction will just exhaust us and make us more likely to miss something in the future."

 

Jack sighed angrily and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're right," he grumbled. "I've been dragging you around everywhere. Just because the higher-ups want me looking at everything in case it's our welcoming killer doesn't mean you need to be here too. Go home, take tomorrow off and get some rest."

 

Before Hannibal could bring up the topic of convincing Jack to stop inviting Will to things like this, or remind Jack that _he_ was Hannibal's ride home, Jack was storming off back to the bustle of the scene. Hannibal would've pursued him except he was stopped by Beverly Katz, one of the few crime scene investigators Hannibal actually liked, rather than just tolerated. "Hey, Lecter, can you help me for a moment?" she asked as she walked past him and back towards the row of FBI vans. "Zeller and Price are being useless and I can't quite drag these equipment boxes myself."

 

Hannibal followed Bev to the nearest FBI van and waited for her to pull open the side door. The black box filled with equipment wasn't horrendously heavy. The larger issue was that it was too bulky for one person to comfortably carry more than a few feet. With one hand Hannibal held his gifted travel mug of tea while his other hand gripped one of the handles, Bev hoisting up the other handle. As they walked back to the crime scene together with the equipment between them, Bev glanced first away and then towards Hannibal.

 

"So is that your boyfriend bringing you tea at a crime scene?" she teased.

 

Hannibal glanced over in Will's direction and then chided himself on the automatic action. He saw that Will was standing where he had been left and was watching Hannibal, but Hannibal turned his eyes to the ground. "He's not—he's just a friend," he said. Hannibal wasn't willing to admit that he had been forcefully sent for psychiatric treatment, nor did he know how to explain his odd relationship with Will considering that he never paid for any of the sessions.

 

"Alright, whatever you say," Bev huffed a laugh as they reached the roundabout again and were able to set the box of equipment on the ground.

 

Hannibal wasn't in the mood to argue; he just wanted to go home. And get some food. He hadn't had any dinner before Jack kidnapped him from his lecture hall. "I'm heading home," Hannibal said as a form of farewell and Bev gave him a distracted wave, already returning her focus to her work.

 

He wasn't sure if the twist of his stomach was because of Bev's comment or because Hannibal was hungry. Either way, he took another sip of tea to fill his stomach with something and walked back to Will, who watched his approach calmly. "All done?"

 

"I shouldn't have been brought here in the first place," Hannibal said. "But Jack drove me from work."

 

Will took a sip from his own mug and nodded towards his car. "Come on, I'll drive you back to pick up your car."

 

"What was Jack's reasoning for asking you to come when he called?" Hannibal asked as they walked back towards Will's car side by side.

 

"He said he noticed how well we worked together back in that cornfield weeks ago and wanted me to help you with the scene," Will answered honestly.

 

"And what did you say?"

 

Will set his travel mug on the roof of his car while he dug out his car keys and got the doors unlocked. Both of them got in and slotted their travel mugs in the two cup holders behind the emergency brake. "I told him in the politest way possible that he was an idiot and that he should have more faith in your abilities." Will wasn't looking at Hannibal, attention on starting up the car and reversing back onto the road before shifting gears, but Hannibal felt warm at the words anyway. "But selfishly I didn't want to miss an opportunity to see you work, so I came anyway. I apologize if my presence made you feel undermined. I can refuse next time."

 

"You weren't the one who made me feel that way," Hannibal confessed and looked out his window rather than at Will. There were worse things than having Will at some of the crime scenes. At least Hannibal would have a confirmed ride home and a possibility of some home-brewed tea. "You can come if you want to."

 

They drove in silence for a few minutes. The park had been far out from downtown and they had a good fifteen minute stretch of darkened country roads before they'd come across streetlamps and other signs of civilization. Hannibal was just considering the possibility of asking Will to stop somewhere to pick up food once they were back in town when the car suddenly skidded to a stop. They had been travelling fast enough that Hannibal felt the fabric of his seatbelt cut a shallow groove into his neck and suspected he would have bruises across his chest from the way the seatbelt knocked the air from Hannibal's lungs before he jerked back against the seat.

 

Hannibal groaned and went to raise his left hand to massage away the twinge in his neck from the sudden stop of the car and that was when he noticed that Will was clutching at his forearm tightly. "Are you alright?"

 

Will was looking at Hannibal like he was precious, irreplaceable. In that moment Hannibal realized that Will genuinely cared about him, and that their wordplay in his office was more than just a fun challenge. Hannibal opted to use his right hand to rub his neck. "I'll survive."

 

Will looked like he wanted to say more, but after a quick up-down assessment to ensure no serious harm had come to Hannibal, Will looked back out the front windshield. Hannibal did the same, wondering why Will had hit the brakes so hard. In the halo of the headlights Hannibal could see what appeared to be some sort of Jack Russell Terrier slowly limping towards the ditch, favouring one of its front paws.

 

"You're sure you're alright?" Will asked again. His hand was still gripping Hannibal's forearm.

 

"Yes," Hannibal promised.

 

"I have to..." Will began but didn't seem to know how to explain himself, and was unwilling to take the time to find the right words. Will finally released his hold on Hannibal's arm and unbuckled his seatbelt, stepping out of the car and grabbing a bag from the back seat. When Hannibal looked back between the seats he saw Will pulling out a big blanket, a first-aid kit, and a small bag of dog treats.

 

Without any further words, Will moved to the front of the car and approached the injured dog slowly while holding out a dog treat between his fingers. The dog bared its teeth in warning and Will tossed the first treat to the dog, appeasing it and proving he meant no harm. The dog lapped up the treat greedily, clearly hungry, and wavered on his three uninjured paws.

 

Hannibal worried about other cars coming and spooking the dog but the road was deserted. Hannibal watched through the windshield as Will knelt down and held out another treat for the dog to consider. Hannibal saw Will's lips moving with what he assumed were encouraging words but Hannibal couldn't hear Will's voice over the humming engine or the fans keeping the car's interior warm.

 

More minutes passed and finally the dog limped close enough to nibble another treat from Will's palm. Will pet the dog for a while and then hoisted the dog into his arms to carry back to the car. The dog was very small, with a white underbelly, a brown face and darker black fur around its eyes and muzzle. Will got the dog bundled up in the blanket and although the dog was whining – likely both with fear and pain – it remained in the warm blanket in the car as Will returned to the driver's seat.

 

"Is this a habit of yours?" Hannibal wondered, curious, amused and surprised all at once.

 

Will's smile was a bit sheepish. "I had six strays at one point back in Louisiana." They started on their way down the road again, and when the dog began to whine louder, Will handed Hannibal the bag of treats to toss another one back for the dog to munch on. "Buster's got a nasty thorn wedged into the pad of his paw but I should be able to get it out and cleaned easily enough," Will seemed to be speaking mostly to himself.

 

"Buster?" Will briefly ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously. Hannibal recognized that this was the most open Will had ever been in front of him, and Hannibal felt honoured by that trust and honesty. Actions showed more than carefully-chosen words ever could, and Will was allowing Hannibal a glimpse into himself. A man who would stop on a back country road to pick up a wounded stray dog and adopt it without blinking. "Buster is a good name."

 

Will's eyes were surprised and then warm in the briefest moment before Will looked back at the road ahead of them. "I know you probably want to get back to your car and home as quickly as possible..."

 

Hannibal shook his head. He was curious to see more of this side of Will. "You should probably tend to Buster first."

 

"I'll drive you back as soon as he's bandaged up," Will insisted.

 

Hannibal parted his lips, took a deep breath, and said as calmly as he could, "I trust you."

 

Will looked over at him and back to the road in quick succession. Once again Hannibal could tell by Will's expression that there was a lot he wanted to say, but they had returned back to civilization and Will had to focus on the traffic around them. It was another ten minutes to Will's house and when they pulled up in the driveway, Hannibal felt his eyes going a bit wide. The house was large and beautiful and Hannibal was forced to realize just how wealthy Will must be to own a property like this.

 

The engine was cut and Hannibal followed Will out of the car. He carried the two travel mugs and the bag of dog treats while Will scooped up Buster bundled up in the blanket and carried him to the door. Inside was just as beautiful as outside and felt very welcoming. All of the decor was tasteful and nothing was overdone. It struck Hannibal as slightly mismatched from Will's laidback outfits and attitude around people and wondered if this was who Will truly was, or if he had just dressed up his house in another show the same way as he cycled through his masks.

 

"Could you put those in the kitchen sink at the end of the hall?" Will requested with a nod in the right direction. "I'll wash them later. I just want to get this guy washed and fixed up."

 

In proper lighting Hannibal could see that Buster, on top of being injured, was caked in dirt. Hannibal nodded and watched Will walk upstairs before finding the kitchen. Deciding to be as helpful as possible, Hannibal washed both mugs in the skin and left them in the drainer to air dry. Then he headed back towards the stairs to follow Will's footsteps, feeling a little out of place being in Will's house without the man beside him.

 

He found light and sound spilling from the first open door on the right side of the upstairs hallway and entered tentatively. Hannibal found himself in a relatively large bathroom. Will had shucked his coat and rolled up his sleeves and was currently rubbing at a stubborn spot of dirt on Buster's head. Hannibal leaned against the doorframe and watched. Right now Will was not a psychiatrist. He was just a man who saved strays, liked fishing, and for some reason had an unshakeable interest in Hannibal.

 

Once Buster was satisfactorily clean, Will dried his hands on a towel and opened a first-aid kid he had set beside the tub. Will must've been aware that he had an audience but he didn't seem bothered by it. He gently held Buster's front leg up and brought tweezers to the thorn. Buster snarled and snapped at Will's hand, trying to yank his paw away. Will growled back, a warning rumble in his chest. Buster whimpered and fell still, submitting. Hannibal shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shrug off the shiver that had run a course down his spine at the sound.

 

The thorn was removed with only a weak yelp from Buster, followed by another whine as Will disinfected the wound. Then Will emptied the tub, stood up, stretched out the kinks in his legs, and plugged in a hair dryer. Buster seemed to enjoy the cascade of warm air drying out his fur and stayed put. Will glanced over at Hannibal, still looking a little self-conscious. "This isn't exactly how I act around most people."

 

For some reason that made Hannibal smile. "Since when am I _most people_?"

 

Will smiled back. "Never." Their eyes almost met and Hannibal felt his breath catch, but then they were both distracted by the sound of other light footfalls down the hallway. Another dog trotted into the bathroom to nuzzle at Will's calf and then sniff at Buster. "Hey Winston," Will patted Winston with his free hand. "Were you sleeping this whole time? You must be hungry." Even though Will had been talking to his dog, Hannibal's stomach growled at the idea of food. "You too?" Will chuckled.

 

"I can get food when I'm home," Hannibal assured quickly.

 

"I'm not letting you go home hungry after putting you through all this and likely giving you whiplash," Will said. He clicked off the hair dryer and set it aside before lifting Buster back into his arms. "Can you grab the first-aid kit and bring it with you?" Will asked as he walked past Hannibal and out into the hallway, back towards the stairs. Hannibal had little choice but to pick up the kit and follow Will back into the kitchen. Will had set Buster down, who limped beside Winston over to the food bowl that Will was filling up.

 

"Will, really—" Hannibal began to protest again but was silenced by a look.

 

"I already told you that I prefer cooking for others rather than myself," Will pointed out and opened the fridge after washing his hands thoroughly. "How about an omelette?"

 

Hannibal finally relented. "That would be good."

 

"Have a seat," Will invited as he began to pull a carton of eggs from the fridge to place on the counter. "Anything in particular you want in yours?"

 

"I'm not particular," Hannibal said, and sat down at the expansive island in the middle of Will's kitchen. He set the first-aid kit in front of him and watched Will's back as he pulled out more ingredients. "Whatever you're having in yours." The eggs were followed by a block of two types of cheese, mushrooms, scallions, and some bacon, which was quickly placed into a frying pan to sizzle. While the bacon cooked, Will rinsed the scallions and mushrooms and set them on a cutting board on the island across from Hannibal. "Let me help," Hannibal insisted, not wanting to feel anymore useless than he already did.

 

Will gave Hannibal a long, considering look and then slid the cutting board and knife across the island to him. "Cut them how you like them," Will instructed and grabbed the cheese instead, grating a large helping of both into two separate bowls. Once Hannibal was done chopping up the vegetables Will accepted the cutting board and piled everything into the frying pan along with the bacon.

 

Hannibal remained where he was, surprised at how comfortable he felt despite the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had acted so domestic with anyone. With Will it was easy to just relax and be himself. Not that Hannibal had entrusted Will with any of his deepest secrets, but the few he had handed carefully to Will in his office had all been accepted openly and without judgement.

 

"That will need a few more minutes to simmer," Will mumbled and then walked towards Hannibal, who suddenly sat a little straighter in his chair. "Let's have a look at that cut on your neck from the seatbelt," Will said. Hannibal was fully capable of tending to his own shallow cut but he didn't press the issue. When Will had the first-aid kit open he looked at Hannibal. "May I touch you?"

 

Hannibal was about to tell Will that he didn't need to ask permission anymore, but crushed that deep down inside himself and simply nodded. The swipe of the cotton ball against his skin disinfecting the cut stung but Hannibal didn't move an inch, not with Will's other hand holding the curve of his neck. It felt too intimate and Hannibal's heart was racing, which had to be obvious with Will's palm against his pulse point.

 

Will didn't comment, remaining focused on his task as he smoothed a bandage over the cut. However, when Will was done he didn't immediately withdraw. Instead he pressed his nose close against Hannibal's neck and breathed deep. Will was scenting him the way a dog – no, a wolf – would consider a potential meal that had stumbled into its den. As embarrassing as it was, Hannibal had to consciously fight an erection as the desire to roll onto his back and submit burned inside of him.

 

As the seconds dragged Hannibal knew he would have to say something, though he didn't know what he _wanted_ to say. He was saved from making a choice by a timer beeping on the stove. Will withdrew smoothly and returned to the frying pan, taking it off the heat to avoid anything burning as if nothing had happened. Part of Hannibal wanted to tell Will off; another part wanted to pull Will back. Yet no part of him wanted to run.

 

Hannibal used the time while Will poured eggs into a second frying pan to slow his breathing and his heart rate, quelling everything tangled inside him. He watched Winston and Buster finish their food and Winston nose Buster into the cushioned dog bed by the back door before curling up himself on the ground. "You have a lovely home," Hannibal complimented, wanting to say something that would start up a safe conversation. Too many things hung unsaid in the silences they shared.

 

"Thank you," Will said but remained focused on the first omelette, which he had already filled with bacon, mushrooms and scallions and was in the process of folding it over. "Next time you're over I'll make you a proper meal." Hannibal didn't argue. It seemed that once Will had his mind set on something, there was little to be done in dislodging him. "Salt, pepper?"

 

"Pepper," Hannibal agreed, and accepted the plate Will offered to him with the first completed omelette. Hannibal ate slowly until Will finished his own omelette and sat on the chair beside Hannibal. The awkward moment had passed and Hannibal breathed easy again as they ate side by side, Hannibal complimenting Will on his cooking more than once and earning a smile each time.

 

There were more things Hannibal was considering saying, but any truth felt too personal in Will's home, rather than in his professional office – even though calling those times 'sessions' were, Hannibal suspected, for his own peace of mind only. Hannibal wondered if Will might say more about the night – the crime scene, the way he clutched at Hannibal's arm in the car, the press of his nose against Hannibal's neck – but Will merely set their empty plates in the kitchen sink and headed for the front door.

 

"I suppose it's time to return you to the world," Will said somewhat wistfully.

 

Saying he didn't feel like being returned wouldn't exactly be appropriate, so Hannibal nodded and pulled his coat on slowly. It was a relatively short drive from Will's house to the FBI building and Will parked right next to Hannibal's car in the parking lot. "Thank you again," Hannibal said, probably sounding a little stiff with everything he _wasn't_ saying, but still wanting to be polite.

 

Will kept his hands on the steering wheel even though the car was in 'park'. "Make sure to put some ice in a towel on your neck when you get home. It should help with the whiplash come morning."

 

Hannibal felt a little stung by the dismissal, and chided himself for it a second later. He was reading too much into this, placing too much hope in Will's intentions simply because the man was willing to listen and accept him for who he was. Still, he forced himself to ask, "Friday?"

 

Will released a heavy breath, not out of irritation but as though he was under strain trying to hold something back. When Will looked at him, Hannibal let their eyes meet for an instant; long enough to see the tension in Will's eyes fade to warmth. "It's a standing appointment," Will promised.

 

Breathing a little easier, Hannibal got out of the car and into his own, starting up the engine and cranking up the heat. He gave Will a wave through the windows separating them and then pulled out onto the road, feeling foolish but still allowing himself to watch in his rear view mirror as Will turned and drove the opposite direction down the street.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Will was home he went to his bedroom and changed into a new outfit that wasn't covered in dog fur. He was always very careful about avoiding leaving any trace of hair – dog or his own – at a crime scene. Having a second dog in the house would help ensure that if a dog hair was left behind, it wouldn't always match up. Still, walking around with all the fur on him from taking care of Buster would be needlessly foolish.

 

Once he was finished Will returned downstairs, washed the dishes and then removed his hunting knife from the false-bottom drawer of the desk in his study. Winston trotted in and nudged the back of Will's knee, whining. Will hooked his knife on his belt and knelt down, rubbing behind Winston's ears. "You have to take care of Buster, okay?" he said. "I'll be back." Will patted Winston a few more times and then left the house, locking up behind himself and getting back into his car.

 

Will drove for so long he didn't know where he was, the forest on either side of the road completely unfamiliar to him. He was pretty sure he had crossed state borders at one point. Will drove a good ten feet off the road and parked on the frosted grass. He had no plan, no destination in mind, as he climbed over the fence along the tree line and began to pick his way through the underbrush. Will's trek was slow going as he mapped out the various tree roots he was stepping over.

 

Will needed to be away from people right now, especially Hannibal. As far away as possible until he calmed down. Will had learned long ago that giving in to instinct and acting rashly almost always backfired. He had learned to control and harness his urges, to focus in on a carefully laid plan. It kept his work clean and precise; never sloppy enough to leave behind a trace or clue that he didn't want to be found. Will would fly below the radar, never piquing dangerous interest and concealing himself in his achievements that society preferred to discuss endlessly.

 

He had known Hannibal would be something special, even before he had met the man. The draw from Louisiana to Baltimore had been insistent but also reassuring and Will hadn't questioned it. Now more than ever Will was certain that Hannibal was the one he had always been searching for, but that came with hazardous pitfalls.

 

Will had always cared for his dogs. It was easy to bring the strays in, make them his family. Dogs were simple creatures in the sense that they were loyal to a fault and Will could never disappoint them unless he hurt one of them or forgot to feed them – neither of which he ever did. They followed him unquestioningly and would never leave until death called them away. Humans were a lot trickier to manage, especially when they got too close.

 

Will's entire goal was to grow closer to Hannibal, and for Hannibal to feel closer with him as well. Will wanted to become an integral part of Hannibal's life, which he would not be able to live without. He wanted to be Hannibal's support, motivator and compass. It had only taken one stolen glimpse in Hannibal's eyes for Will to recognize the shadows within him, perhaps there since birth or maybe triggered by the death of his family. Regardless, it was there, and Will wanted to help it blossom.

 

Hannibal was a perfect specimen, intuitive and intelligent, skilled at hiding what needed to be kept private and performing the actions and words society required of anyone they were to leave to their own devices. Hannibal was an amazing profiler, and likely a wonderful teacher as well. But he could be so much more, and Will wanted to help him discover and feed that potential.

 

Will had not, however, anticipated quite how drawn he would feel to that darkness. It was familiar, a perfect match to his own, which was something Will had gone his entire life without. No one else in the world quite like him, not just with the capacity to accept and understand, but to challenge and surpass, push Will to be more than he currently was. It would've been so easy – so _satisfying_ – to drag Hannibal to the ground, sink his teeth into skin and tear into Hannibal's throat. To feel Hannibal arch beneath him and pull him closer until they were one. Hannibal had wanted it; Will had smelled it on him.

 

It had awakened something animalistic inside of Will, forcing him to realize that he wanted more than just a hunting partner. And that was terrifying. Pursuing more would mean that Will would have to open himself up fully, lay himself bare on the table and see if Hannibal would accept or reject him. It wasn't just providing a glimpse of his nature to tempt and guide Hannibal into embracing his own nature. This would leave Will vulnerable, open to new wounds.

 

Will shook his head and kept walking, breathing deeply enough that the ice in the air cut his throat and lungs. He would have to be so incredibly careful if he attempted this. The timing would have to be just right. If Will let Hannibal become too emotionally invested into their relationship before revealing his nature, Hannibal would feel betrayed. If Will exposed his nature too soon, before the emotional hooks had sunk in and snagged securely, Hannibal would not take the time to try to understand. The relationship and the reveal would have to go hand in hand; a precarious balancing act.

 

Well, Will _had_ come to Baltimore seeking a challenge.

 

He was just about to circle back and make his way in the direction of his car when voices filtered through the trees. Curious, Will kept his footfalls silent as he approached the sound of chatting and laughter. He stopped just within the tree line. Will must've stumbled across a camping ground because he was looking out at a cleared lot between the trees, a big sign nailed into one of the further trees showing _#17_ and providing some tips about bears and other wildlife.

 

Will couldn't see any sign of life beyond this lot, which wasn't surprising considering the outdoor temperature. But here Will watched a young couple cuddling by a campfire, sharing drinks and marshmallows. Their small camper was parked behind them, where Will suspected they were planning to sleep when the cold became too unforgiving.

 

Will hadn't come here for this, but he couldn't turn away from such a perfect opportunity. He had seen the way the FBI were falling over themselves and yanking Hannibal this way and that to pointless – _meaningless_ – crime scenes. Stretching Hannibal thin before the chase had even truly begun. Well, if they were so desperate for another bread crumb, Will was feeling generous tonight. He would leave them two.

 

He remained in the shadows, silent and unseen, until the man joked about too many drinks and stumbled towards the trees to relieve himself. It was too easy, not enough of a challenge. But Will would weave these two into something beautiful for Hannibal to appreciate. It was over for the man in seconds. As soon as he walked beyond the tree line Will's hand was over his mouth, the fracturing of his neck masked by the dancing of the fire.

 

Will lowered his ragdoll body to the ground quietly and then stepped beyond the shelter of the trees and into the open. The girl didn't stand a chance, Will a silent wraith bearing down on her. She suffered the same fate as her partner, neck broken with one efficient jerk before her body slumped back against Will's chest. He lay her down on the dirt behind the log she had been seated on and then retrieved the man from the forest, hoisting him into Will's arms to avoid tracks dragged across the ground.

 

Side by side on their backs, Will pulled up each of their shirts in turn to write a message with the tip of his dagger, pressing a little harder than with his first victim to ensure the cuts were deep and impossible to miss. By the time he was finished and satisfied with his work, both of them were dead, the severing of their spinal cord paralyzing their respiratory systems until they suffocated. Will rearranged them until they embraced in death and then set them alight with a burning branch from their fire.

 

Will stood back and watched for a few minutes as the fire crept up their clothes and inevitably engulfed them both. When the campers didn't check out and leave in the morning, one of the forest wardens would come investigate and find them. Will still didn't know exactly where he was but knew he was far enough away that it would take a while for news to reach the Baltimore FBI.

 

Will was certain that Hannibal would be brought in on the case as soon as the message was deciphered on the victims' stomachs. But by the time Hannibal was called, it was unlikely that he would see Will's design exactly as he had laid it out. There was a chance, but a small one. He wondered, silently as the smell of burning flesh assaulted his nose, if Hannibal would think of the heat that had been between them tonight when he looked down on this couple.

 

Eventually Will turned away and doused the campfire, not seeing any value in letting the forest burn down with the couple. In the darkness he traced his way through the other nearby lots to ensure that there was no one around and no potential witnesses. Then he took a different route into the forest and walked back to his car, feeling much calmer than he had when leaving his house.

 

#

 

"Hannibal, is everything alright?" Will checked his watch, seeing that it was nearing 4pm. Thankfully he didn't have any more sessions booked for this afternoon except for Hannibal's. "You're not cancelling our session again, are you?"

 

"Unfortunately I am," Hannibal sighed into the phone. "A double murder has been discovered at a camping ground two hours from here in Virginia that I must attend immediately."

 

"Virginia?" Will pretended to be puzzled even though his heart was starting an excited patter. "Isn't that out of your jurisdiction? Or at least, isn't there someone closer to the crime scene?"

 

"I need to go specifically due to something that was discovered on the bodies," Will could tell that Hannibal wanted to tell him more but was uncertain if he was allowed to.

 

Will let genuine disappointment into his voice at the thought of not being there to witness Hannibal taking in the scene. "Alright. Next week, then?"

 

There was a telling pause. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd join me."

 

Will couldn't respond until he had tamed his pleased grin into a calmer smile. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to be in the way—"

 

"You wouldn't be," Hannibal insisted. "I would prefer that you come with me. I would appreciate having someone to talk to who can actually keep up."

 

"How could I refuse?" Will laughed and set his notebook aside. "Two hours away though; should I bring anything?"

 

"It'll be a late night," Hannibal warned. "And there's a chance that we'd have to stay the night..." With each word, Hannibal's voice faded, realizing that he was making this sound less and less appealing. At least, to anyone else he might be. To Will, he was just growing more and more eager for them to get going.

 

"I'll need some time to pack an overnight bag, just in case," Will said, easily brushing away all of the uncertainties Hannibal wouldn't consciously voice. "And I would prefer to bring Winston and Buster rather than leave them potentially overnight."

 

"I'm sure that'll be fine as long as they don't go running into the crime scene," Hannibal reasoned. "You have time; I'm going to wrap up my lecture early but that'll still take a little while. I could drive by your house and pick you up."

 

The noticeable strain in Hannibal's voice as he tried to keep himself sounding nonchalant was so appealing; the squirming in Will's stomach just added to the delectable tension of the conversation. "I'll be ready when you get there."

 

They ended the call and Will packed up everything in his office quickly. He had already sent Vanessa home for the weekend so it was an easy process to turn off the last few lights and lock all the doors before driving home. Will packed an overnight bag with all the necessities but minus the luxuries including his hunting knife. He got Winston and Buster fed and then took them out back to do their business before the car ride. Normally he liked to walk the dogs further away from home for that, but with Buster's paw still healing, Will made an exception.

 

Hannibal still hadn't arrived when that was taken care of so Will washed his hands and made some sandwiches with some ingredients in his fridge, shuddering at the thought of stopping at a fast food restaurant en route. By the time he was done there was a knock at the door and both Will and the dogs approached as a mob.

 

Will's bag, Winston and Buster joined Hannibal's bag in the back seat and then they were off. Over the last few weeks Hannibal had begun to open up to Will more, entrusting him slowly with more personal and important truths about himself. It meant that now, in the car on their two hour road trip, Hannibal was less adverse to keeping alive a relaxed, simple conversation Will prompted from time to time. Will heard more about the topics Hannibal was currently lecturing on and Will gave a brief update on his plan to go ice fishing once the ice got thick enough.

 

They stopped at a rest stop on the side of the highway to get more gas and split the sandwiches while Winston ran a few laps and Buster trotted along behind him. Will offered to drive the final forty minutes and as they neared their destination, Will glanced over at Hannibal. "So are you going to tell me why they needed you to come specifically, or am I just going to see for myself?"

 

Hannibal sat perfectly still in his seat, eyes forward on the road ahead. Will didn't push him, knowing now that it was best to let Hannibal speak in his own time. "Do you remember that woman who was found dead in Witterman's Park about a month ago?" Will could safely nod, having read about it in the newspaper. "Well there was more to it that wasn't released to the media. The killer had carved a word into her stomach." Hannibal looked at Will who gave a curious but perplexed look back. "Welcome."

 

Will's eyebrows furrowed. "Welcome?"

 

"It was a welcoming gift, and an invitation to me," Hannibal stated. "The killer wanted my attention."

 

Will sorely wished he wasn't driving, finding it difficult to keep his eyes from reading every twitch on Hannibal's face. Hearing Hannibal talk about Will's kill and design was more thrilling than he had ever imagined. Still, he had a role to play. "You're sure it was meant for you directly?"

 

"It was," Hannibal said with certainty. "And if it wasn't clear before, it is now. Two bodies were found this time, with another message."

 

When Hannibal fell silent, Will couldn't stop himself from prompting Hannibal into continuing. "What was it?"

 

Hannibal had a finger pressed to his lips, thoughts far away and yet closer than he realized, circling around the killer sitting next to him. "My name."

 

Hannibal lapsed into complete silence and Will didn't disturb him, following the map the rest of the way to their destination. This was an unfamiliar route to Will, who had trekked through the forest rather than entering through the camping site entrance. He parked the car at the edge of the police tape where they could go no further and cut the ignition, but didn't immediately get out. "Hannibal," he said, and waited until the man looked over at him. "Are you safe?"

 

Showing concern in this situation was expected, though Will was not truly frightened for Hannibal's wellbeing since Will himself was the killer and had no intention of ever letting any harm come to his prize. Of course Hannibal was safe. If this was another killer Will would've already tracked them down and made them pay for stalking what was rightfully Will's. He would gouge out their eyes first, for looking upon Hannibal, remove their fingers next for what they might've imagined using them for, and then made them scream beyond their pleas for death.

 

Hannibal seemed surprised but not bothered by the concern. In fact, a bit of tension left his body and his shoulders sagged slightly. "I'll be fine, Will. Don't worry."

 

Will kept Winston and Buster in the car with a window cracked for fresh air and followed behind Hannibal beyond the police tape. He had only been here a few nights ago but it looked starkly different lit up by multiple spotlights set up around the campsite. Even though Will's face remained blank, he was overjoyed to find that the bodies had not been moved from where he had placed them. The skin was charred and the couple wasn't even recognizable, though someone had clearly studied their stomachs enough make out the words.

 

 _Hannibal_ , on the man's stomach.

 

 _Lecter_ , on the woman's to complete the design.

 

Jack was already there, along with the team of crime scene investigators Will had noticed surrounding the roundabout on Wednesday. Will stepped out of Jack's warpath and kept his distance, though his eyes never wavered from Hannibal as he circled the scene. Hannibal asked Jack a few questions under his breath, likely about the cause of death and if anything had been altered before his arrival. There was no cut to the throat this time but Hannibal didn't need that to tie the threads together.

 

Eventually Jack wandered off to talk to some of the investigators searching for any form of useful trace evidence, not that they would find anything. Hannibal remained where he was, standing as tall and still as a statue as Hannibal shifted his focus inward. Will moved a bit closer so that he could see the puzzle pieces being laid out in the well of Hannibal's pupils. Considering each piece, rearranging them to search for patterns and motivations to link everything and develop an accurate prediction of what would come next. Will witnessed the frustration knitting Hannibal's brows when he came to realize that there were still too many pieces missing to get a clear picture.

 

"I make an excellent sounding board," Will murmured so as not to startle Hannibal.

 

Hannibal looked over quickly, not having noted that Will was standing beside him. He released a quiet sigh and looked back to the two bodies. "I feel like the killer expects me to know more than I do. They assume that I am beginning with some pieces that I do not possess."

 

"How do you think they know about you?"

 

"The newspapers, likely," Hannibal's blank stare said more of his dislike of that original article Will had read than any words could. "They view me as a challenge; someone worthy of studying their work and pulling apart each piece to get to the underlying truths."

 

"That makes it sound like they want to get caught," Will wondered aloud.

 

"Not by law enforcement, I don't think." Hannibal slid his hands into his coat pockets, lips pursed slightly with deep consideration. "But I think they want me to look upon them and _know_ ; to truly see them for all that they are. This..." Hannibal inclined his head towards the embracing lovers, "confuses me."

 

"Why?"

 

"The first scene was almost clinically meticulous. There were not emotions involved during any part of its setup," Hannibal explained. Will gave in and shuffled a half-step closer so that he could feel Hannibal's warmth mingle with his own. Will wasn't prepared for this, for how attractive Hannibal's intelligence and abilities could be when probing Will's work. He refused to interrupt. "This was almost the same, but then the killer let emotion in."

 

"How so?" It didn't matter that there were investigators and lab techs bustling around, Jack grunting orders in the distance. To Will, it was just him and Hannibal and the charred bodies.

 

"The killer snapped both of their necks and let them suffocate while working on the message," Hannibal said. "Some would call this cruel, but death is never a comfortable transition. The killer did not make either of them suffer more than the means of their death would entail. Same with the first woman; the cut to her throat was deep and clean. There wasn't strictly speaking any torture involved."

 

"But you mentioned emotions," Will prompted when Hannibal began to get lost in his thoughts again.

 

Hannibal hummed, his eyes refocusing. "The killer could have burned them while they still lived but he didn't."

 

"He?"

 

Hannibal blinked and looked at Will for the first time in minutes. "What?"

 

"That's the first time you've said 'he'," Will elaborated.

 

Hannibal rubbed at the back of his neck. Will wondered if Hannibal's neck still ached from Wednesday night. "I feel like I got a glimpse... just for a second..." Will stayed silent but Hannibal's glimmer of foresight had gone, and he finished off his previous statement. "The killer carried out their deaths and the setup of his tableau emotionlessly but then, before he left, an emotion drove him to manoeuvre them into an embrace and torch them."

 

"Destruction?"

 

"Passion."

 

"Hannibal." They both looked up when Jack approached, looking back and forth between them and then continuing. "I asked the techs who arrived on scene first. As far as they could tell, the reason why nothing else burned before the bodies were found was because the fire had been doused."

 

"A respect for nature," Hannibal mumbled under his breath, another piece of the puzzle.

 

At Jack's demand, Hannibal reiterated all of his musings that he had previously discussed with Will. Jack wasn't exactly pleased when Hannibal didn't have any specific leads to narrow their search, but somehow seemed smart enough to realize that chewing Hannibal out with Will standing next t him wasn't the smartest idea. Jack shoved a piece of paper into Hannibal's grasp, explaining that everyone was staying the night nearby with motel rooms already booked, and offered a thinly veiled threat for Hannibal to rest up and come back with more useful insights in the morning.

 

The motel was on a side street off the highway and left a lot to be desired. Inside the room there were two double beds with threadbare floral-print duvets, a television that got five channels if you counted the one that lent itself to a game of distinguishing shapes from static, a rickety writing desk and chair, and a tiny bathroom that Will suspected had not originally been off-white. Will promised himself multiple showers when he got home and reminded himself that it was worth it considering the fact that he would be sharing a room with Hannibal.

 

"I almost feel embarrassed asking you to stay here," Hannibal groaned as he set his bag on one of the beds. Will had placed his own bag on the bed closest to the door, just so that he was between Hannibal and any potential threat. He had planned ahead and brought a food and water bowl, plus some dog food, and had just finished filling both dishes for the dogs.

 

"I've stayed in much worse, I assure you," Will laughed. "The company is better, at least."

 

Hannibal was pretending to be busy with his travel bag but he was still smiling. "Usually I prefer to not share a room," Hannibal weathered his bottom lip. "But I don't mind as much with you."

 

"Any reason why you don't like to share?" Will sat on the edge of his bed and turned on the television, muting the channels before flipping through aimlessly. He wanted a truthful answer but taking some of his attention off Hannibal would ease up on the man's discomfort.

 

"I... have nightmares."

 

"Don't worry about me; I sleep like the dead." That was a complete lie; few slept lighter than Will. But he didn't want Hannibal worrying about waking him up. Will reconsidered his assessment of the cause for Hannibal's uneasiness when his words only made Hannibal look more unsure. "I also wouldn't mind if you woke me up and talked about it," Will added, testing the waters. Hannibal looked over at him and stared at Will until he found the answer on Will's face.

 

"I aim to push the thoughts from my mind and go back to sleep," Hannibal wavered. "But if I cannot then I will come to you."

 

"Good," Will smiled encouragingly and settled on the least-blurry channel which was currently playing a marathon of _Jeopardy_. "I bet I can guess more of the answers than you."

 

They spent near two hours watching _Jeopardy_ , each of them seated on their respective beds with Winston and Buster curled up at the foot of Will's bed. Normally he insisted that the dogs not get up on the bed but in this dingy motel he didn't care much about the sheets. They called out answers to questions and became increasingly amused when they knew almost every answer between the pair of them.

 

At last they both began to yawn and Will clicked off the television, each of them taking a turn in the bathroom. It was a challenge for Will to avoid staring when Hannibal exited the washroom with a pair of pyjama pants hanging on his hips and a loose long-sleeved shirt. Hannibal always dressed as nicely as he could afford so it was nice to see him in more casual attire. Will himself usually slept in pants without a shirt but with the cold air outside and the thin duvets that were available, he pulled on a t-shirt as an afterthought.

 

The lights were turned out and the sound of rustling blankets filled the darkened room as they both settled. So close, yet so far; separated by nothing but space and a bedside table. "I'm glad you came," Hannibal admitted softly.

 

Will's fingers clutched at the sheets of his bed, physically keeping himself in place and fighting the yearning to cross the space between them and slide beneath Hannibal's sheets, ignore the certainty that Hannibal would pull him closer and aid in their first embrace. "I'm glad you trusted me enough to bring me along."

 

Silence stretched between them and Will began to wonder if Hannibal had fallen asleep, but then he whispered, "It's relieving to finally trust someone."

 

Long after Hannibal's breath evened out and sleep claimed him, Will lay awake with his eyes on the shadowy darkness that encompassed Hannibal, thinking about how he hoped to one day trust Hannibal in return, and how disappointing it would be if Hannibal rejected him and Will had to continue on alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: brief mention of animal cruelty**

Will must've fallen asleep at some point because when his eyes flashed open, it was a little past midnight. He blinked a few times in the darkness, trying to discern what had dragged him from sleep. Will had trained himself long ago to wake up at any unusual sound – a floorboard groaning beneath unwelcome weight, a protesting door hinge opening at too late of an hour, a rush of breath from someone with a heart racing in nervous anticipation to pounce.

 

There was nothing, and then – a weak moan that broke off into a scared whimper. Will lifted his head from the pillow and looked over at Hannibal's bed, barely making out the mound of blankets that distinguished Hannibal from the bed. The sheets rustled but as Will's eyes fully adjusted to the darkness he could see that Hannibal was already mostly twisted up and bound in the blankets. That didn't stop the man from struggling, his breathing coming in harsh and anxious.

 

Despite the urge to intervene immediately, Will remained where he was. He wondered if the nightmare would jolt Hannibal back into wakefulness and if Hannibal would come to Will as he said he would. However, after a few moments when Hannibal grew more agitated, Will finally gave up curiosity and instead acknowledged his instinct. Winston and Buster were still asleep on the foot of his bed so Will carefully got out of bed and padded barefoot across to Hannibal's.

 

It took a moment of fumbling to find the edge of the blankets and drag it from beneath Hannibal's body, and then Will slid underneath. Hannibal was soaked in sweat but Will ignored it as he shook Hannibal's shoulder and spoke his name loudly enough to be heard over Hannibal's breathing. Hannibal came out of the nightmare violently, gasping like a man half-drowned. His hand flew up and gripped Will's forearm tightly, and Will let Hannibal's nails dig in.

 

"Breathe," Will ordered into the shell of Hannibal's ear and then brushed Hannibal's sweaty bangs from his forehead, soothing as much as he could. "You're safe, Hannibal. I'm here," he promised.

 

Hannibal shoved Will backwards, forcefully separating them and trying to turn away. Will didn't let Hannibal get far before he grabbed the man's forearms and pulled him back halfway into Will's lap with Will propped up on the pillows. "You're not safe here with me," Hannibal ground out. This time, even though Hannibal's hands curled around Will's shoulders in preparation to push him back again, he only clutched Will tighter. "I killed those men who killed my family."

 

Will continued to stroke calming fingers through Hannibal's hair. "I know."

 

Hannibal shook his head, his breathing ragged. "You don't understand. I enjoyed it," he confessed. "I'm a monster."

 

Will's heart sang. "You're not a monster for killing them, or for enjoying the end of their lives. They were the monsters for destroying your family in front of you." Hannibal wouldn't look at him so Will gripped his chin and forced Hannibal's face upwards. Their eyes met and held fully in the darkness and what Will saw was breathtaking. "You were merely resetting balance." With his hand on Hannibal's chin, it was easy to feel the tickle of tears falling against his skin. Will leaned closer and pressed their foreheads together. "You are magnificent."

 

Hannibal was silent but his body trembled with contained sobs. Will held Hannibal tighter, one arm around Hannibal's shoulders and the other around his waist, and squeezed enough that Hannibal wouldn't forget that he wasn't alone. Hannibal clutched at him, nails scraping across skin through the thin fabric of Will's t-shirt. "I did horrible things," Hannibal's voice broke.

 

"Tell me," Will requested, murmuring against the top of Hannibal's head.

 

Hannibal shook harder. "I used my father's butcher's knife. I was fascinated at how readily skin gave to the blade, how slippery the blood on the floor was," Hannibal pressed closer, tearstained face against Will's neck. "I cut one man's throat. I didn't know what I was doing, but I cut deep enough to hear him... choke."

 

With his arm that was wrapped around Hannibal's waist, Will snuck his hand beneath Hannibal's shirt and held his palm against feverish skin. "And the other one?"

 

"It took me four tries to get his heart," Hannibal whispered. "But he was on the floor before that point, and I kept stabbing long afterwards."

 

Will could imagine young Hannibal wielding a butcher's knife, hand and body awash with blood. One man clutching at his throat as he suffocated, and the other man's chest torn open by wild stabs of a blade. How badly Will wished he could've been there to take Hannibal into his arms and keep him from falling to pieces. Hannibal had been alone – family gone, thrown into therapy and then left to struggle through life – but Will was here now. He would help Hannibal rebuild and become powerful and stronger for all the struggles he had faced. Will would not let the years of wasted opportunities dampen Hannibal's potential.

 

"Is that what your nightmare was about?" Hannibal jerked his head back and forth. His nails had found the collar of Will's shirt and were scoring marks into Will's collarbones. Will shivered and accepted Hannibal's mark, however unaware the giver was in the moment. Hannibal's breathing was picking up again and Hannibal would soon begin hyperventilating. "Hush," Will crooned until Hannibal grew quiet again.

 

"I dreamt that I found you by a stream, throat sliced open and..." Hannibal took a deep, shuddering breath. "And ' _goodbye_ ' etched into your stomach. I... I held the knife."

 

If Will was to die to anyone besides Nature itself, he would want it to be Hannibal. He kept that to himself for now, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated. It could be the end to all of this, if Hannibal reacted violently when Will finally revealed himself. Right now Will took comfort in how distraught Hannibal's nightmares had him, signifying how much of a loss Will's disappearance or death would be to Hannibal. They still had a long way to go, but they had already come incredibly far. Will was burrowing in as a fixture in Hannibal's life.

 

Hannibal was trembling again and Will gently tilted his head back, sealing their lips together in a chaste, reassuring kiss. Hannibal's lips remained slack and, after a frozen moment, Will pulled back. He had overstepped boundaries, been too greedy, acted too rashly. He was grateful for the room's shadows when he found it a little more challenging than normal to school his features to neutrality, preparing himself to be shoved from the bed. Instead, Hannibal uttered, "How?"

 

Will understood then, but he would have to choose his words carefully. "All I see now is a clearer vision of an incredible man and find myself enthralled." Hannibal shook his head in disbelief but he didn't lean back or turn away. "The ability to restore balance is something few harness, and even fewer can carry through to the end. You should know..." Will took a steadying breath. "Shortly after my father died and it was just me and my one dog – Rosie – a man broke into our tiny house and tried to rob me of anything left. Rosie attacked him and he kicked her skull in."

 

"She got a good chunk out of him before she was gone though, and he decided to get out and regroup." Hannibal's fingers had begun a tentative caress around the curve of Will's neck while he spoke. It wasn't that Will required comfort; this was a long time ago. But the contact was addicting as Will leaned into it and continued. "I didn't let him get that far. I grabbed my dad's hunting rifle from the wall. One shot in the back of each knee so he couldn't run. The next in the shoulder because I could. The last between the eyes because he begged for it."

 

It wasn't a full confession. This was one murder, triggered in a young boy who had just lost everything he had. In a way, very similar to how everything had been torn from Hannibal with the death of his parents and sister. This wasn't Will confessing to being the _Louisiana Lure_ , a hint towards the many more left dead – sometimes in pieces, sometimes consumed – or an explanation of the partnership he eventually wanted to share with Hannibal.

 

But it was still admitting to killing someone, and making them suffer before the end. Jack was probably asleep in the next room over. Hannibal could have Will in chains before dawn. Instead Hannibal's lips found Will's again, and they were _hungry_. Will knotted his fingers greedily in Hannibal's hair and devoured him with tongue, lips and teeth, rolling them over and pinning Hannibal against the mattress. His other hand scraped nails across the vulnerable flesh of Hannibal's stomach, marking him in return.

 

Against Hannibal's lips, Will whispered, "How?" but didn't wait for an answer. Judging by the way Hannibal was kissing Will back, Hannibal understood now how Will could kiss him after hearing about Hannibal killing his family's murderers. Hannibal might not be willing to accept it yet, but he was as aroused by Will's story as Will was by Hannibal's. All that mattered right now was for Hannibal to feel as accepted and cherished as he was, regardless of his confessions – _because_ of them.

 

They kissed with the full weight of their bodies pressing against one another, but when Will felt both of them stiffening he forced himself to pull back and break the kiss. Hannibal looked delectable, sprawled across the sheets with his hair unkempt and his lips swollen, but indulging now would ruin Will's carefully-laid plans. Besides, it would be fun to watch Hannibal squirm, to test how long it would take Hannibal to give in and beg.

 

"We shouldn't have done that," Will faked remorse. Hannibal tensed beneath him and Will continued, "Don't misunderstand my interest." He rut himself once against Hannibal's thigh until his desire was undeniable, finding it challenging to silence his groan at the sensation. His point had been made, and Will felt Hannibal's own arousal against his hip. "I want you more by the day," Will confessed. "But you are vulnerable now and I don't want to risk you waking up tomorrow and regretting anything." He didn't want anything between them to sour.

 

"I don't think I will," Hannibal said, though he sounded uncertain. "I've thought about it..."

 

Will kissed the corner of Hannibal's mouth with mellowed passion. "Take some time and think on it more. Some may raise eyebrows considering how we met and you need to decide if that would bother you."

 

Hannibal looked conflicted, but he hadn't looked away yet. "Would it bother you; people accusing you of sleeping with a patient?"

 

Will rolled off Hannibal when he realized that both of their hips were still moving minutely against one another teasingly. However, he still stayed close to Hannibal's body even though the heat between them would make it harder for their bodies to calm. "There is little in the world that could keep me from you," Will said, a hint of possession sneaking into his voice.

 

He felt Hannibal shiver beside him. "What would those things be?"

 

"Death," Will said and then, after considering for a long, hard moment, added, "Your request." Though if he played his cards right, Will believed that would never become any issue to contend with.

 

Hannibal seemed reassured and he released a deep breath. "Will you sleep here?"

 

"Yes," Will agreed and settled more fully against the blankets. It still took a while for his cock to stop throbbing in his pants and wane, and for his skin to feel less overheated, but it wasn't as difficult as Will had anticipated to relax and slide back into sleep with Hannibal's even breathing next to his ear.

 

#

 

A banging at the door woke Will up. He felt Hannibal stirring beside him but sleep wasn't releasing Hannibal as easily. Will got out of bed, tucked the blankets back around Hannibal to hide evidence of bodies sharing a bed, rumpled up the sheets on his own forgotten bed a little more, and then padded to the door. Jack was there, looking grumpy and agitated. "I need Hannibal at the crime scene now," was Jack's form of 'good morning'.

 

Will didn't have a watch on but he could tell by the weak lighting that it was earlier than everyone had agreed on. Will leaned purposefully on the doorframe, foot holding the door closed except for the width of his body. Barring entrance. "He's still sleeping."

 

"They're calling for rain. I want him at the site for as long as possible before everything is washed out." Jack took a menacing half-step closer and Will didn't flinch. Jack had mistakenly grown accustomed to assuming that Hannibal was his to boss around. It was time for the line in the sand to be made a little more obvious.

 

"He will be more help to you with proper sleep," Will reasoned calmly, acting the part of a concerned therapist. Jack squared his shoulders and opened his mouth, ready to meet Will's challenge, but Will spoke over him. "He'll be there at the agreed-upon time," he said and then closed the door in Jack's face.

 

"You shouldn't have done that," Hannibal chided softly from where he was sitting up in bed.

 

Will sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Hannibal's shoulder, pushing him back into a lying position gently. Hannibal let himself sprawl and Will felt a special affection for this sleep-hazed version of Hannibal with mussed hair and open, trusting eyes. This was for Will alone. "You and I both know that thirty seconds on that crime scene was enough for you to have it memorized."

 

Hannibal's lips quirked with shy pride at his own ability. "Still, you don't want to make an enemy of Jack."

 

Will didn't want to make an enemy of Jack – _yet_. If he continued to play the concerned, protective therapist then Jack would be less likely to pick an open fight. Will would slip in – not unnoticed but without sparking concern – and steal Hannibal from beneath Jack's nose. Hannibal would be his and Jack wouldn't realize it until it was too late.

 

He glanced at the clock and back. "There's another thirty minutes before your alarm goes off and I want to shower anyway. Rest, at least."

 

Will considered slipping his fingers through hair or leaning down to press lips to forehead, temple, or cheek. Hannibal was still half-asleep and probably wouldn't push him off, but their moment of intimacy from the middle of the night was over. Will stood from the bed and Hannibal didn't call him back. Will took his time showering and then took Winston and Buster for a walk while Hannibal showered. He found a cafe a short distance down the road from the motel and although the food left a lot to be desired, it was better than Hannibal running off to the crime scene and forgetting to eat – which he would.

 

Hannibal was dressed when Will returned and he silently lamented missing an opportunity to see Hannibal sans clothes or at least with shower-dampened skin. Will handed off the bag for Hannibal to set out food for them both and filled the dog bowls with fresh food and water. Breakfast was not a relaxing affair, Hannibal eating quickly in his hurry to get back to the crime scene. Will let the issue slide and matched Hannibal's pace, truthfully looking forward to being out of the dingy motel and back at his beautiful tableau.

 

Will got a vicious glare from Jack when they arrived back at the campsite but it was well worth it when Hannibal purposefully stood between them. Will didn't need protection from anyone, let alone Jack. That wasn't the point. What mattered was the fact that, consciously or not, Hannibal had chosen to stand by Will. It was incredible how influential gratitude could be, how easily it could warp a mind to hold some people in higher regard than others.

 

He saw the way Jack bristled but clouds were hanging low in the sky and everyone was aware of their time running out. Jack muttered some more details and questions to Hannibal as they walked around the site. By now the bodies had been moved for further analysis but there were marks in the dirt to maintain the outline of Will's design. "We haven't been able to trace any connections between the first woman and this couple. They have nothing in common that we can find," Jack said.

 

"There won't be any connections to find," Hannibal explained distractedly, his attention elsewhere as he traced the tree line with his eyes. "This wasn't personal; they were just convenient. He wanted a vessel for his message and took what he found." Hannibal looked from the campfire pit to the outline of the bodies to the forest. "He's resourceful."

 

Hannibal walked towards the tree line, both Jack and Will following a pace behind him. Jack was frowning as he watched Hannibal disappear among the trees and Will's expression was kept purposefully blank. It was heady watching Hannibal retrace Will's steps, and with Hannibal turning back to watch the campsite from the shadows of the trees, it was wonderfully easy to imagine Hannibal in Will's place. Hunting knife at the ready, patience never-ending until an opportunity presented itself in the form of the male getting up to relieve himself in the forest.

 

"The man died first, correct?" Hannibal watched the campsite but his eyes were unseeing, watching the shadow of Will in his mind's eye instead. Jack grunted his confirmation. "The killer was never seen by the campsite officials because he didn't enter that way. He came from the trees. He watched the male approach, embraced him in the shadows and broke his neck..." Hannibal looked to the left and reached a hand out, closing it into a fist around an invisible neck, reliving everything. When his gaze returned to the campsite clearing, Hannibal's eyes were dark with something all too familiar to Will. "It would've been easy to kill her next. If she heard footsteps at all, she would've thought it was her partner returning."

 

"You said he came from the trees," Jack reiterated. "There's about one mile of forest between here and the next country road, and that's if you're taking a direct path. Why would he walk so far?"

 

Hannibal turned his entire body and looked deeper into the forest. The tree branches creaked as they swayed in the building wind. Hannibal was still missing too many puzzle pieces, but Will could see Hannibal reshuffling the pieces he did have in his eyes. "I'm not sure," Hannibal admitted. "But I don't think he came here specifically for them. I'm not even sure he knew this campground existed beyond the trees."

 

"So you're telling me that this guy just went for a stroll through the forest, stumbled across the couple and decided, ' _why not_ '?" Jack huffed.

 

"Basically yes," Hannibal said. "Though I'm not sure I could call this a normal stroll. You would take a marked trail for one of those. The killer was agitated about something, tromping through the forest without any thoughts of wild animals that might attack him in passing, and when he found the campsite he found an outlet."

 

At that moment Will heard the first patter of raindrops on the canopy above their heads. It took a few more seconds for the rainfall to build up enough to bend the leaves and send the droplets cascading down on them, causing Jack to curse the weather loudly as he returned to the other investigators scouring the site before the rain wiped it all away. Clean slate. Will didn't mourn the loss of his design because it would live on in Hannibal's memory, and that was all he cared about.

 

The rain worsened and Jack had no choice but to admit that nothing else of use would be found and send everyone home. Will drove the entire way back to Baltimore and it was a quiet drive, Hannibal lost deep in thought. The dogs slept in the backseat for most of the trip and Will kept his eyes on the road through the downpour of rain, only occasionally stealing glances at Hannibal that the other man didn't register.

 

Will only disturbed Hannibal once he had pulled up in his own driveway and put the car in park. "Will you be alright getting home on your own?" Will asked.

 

Hannibal blinked a few times, eyes clearing like he was resurfacing. "Are we back already?" Hannibal looked out through the window to see Will's house in front of them. "I'm sorry, I was thinking..."

 

"I prefer silence to meaningless chatter," Will waved away Hannibal's apology. Will couldn't take offense when it was his design that had captured Hannibal's attention so fully. Hannibal still seemed very distracted so Will reached between the seats to grab his overnight bag and unclipped his seatbelt. "Drive safely, please."

 

"Will," Hannibal reached for him and then hesitated, hand wavering and then falling between them. "Thank you for joining me, and for last night."

 

"My pleasure," Will said truthfully and then opened his door, leaving the keys in the ignition. He got the back door open and Winston and Buster jumped out, running around the yard and completely oblivious to the rain and the mud they would track inside.

 

At the front of the car Will and Hannibal came face to face, Hannibal moving around to the driver's seat. For a moment Will thought Hannibal was going to kiss him, but was met with disappointment when Hannibal merely provided a polite smile and ducked into the car and out of the rain. Not allowing his dissatisfaction to show on his face, Will whistled over the rain and got himself and his dogs inside, not looking back as he closed the door behind him.

 

#

 

Will tapped his fingers against his desk idly, checking the time on his phone. Hannibal was nearly thirty minutes late for his session and hadn't even called. Hannibal was polite to a fault; if he wasn't able to attend then he would normally call Will ahead of time to let him know. So why had he neither shown up or called? Will hadn't heard from Hannibal since their road trip to Virginia but Will had assumed that Hannibal was busy between daily life and also thinking through Will's newest design. Which he knew had to be true, but Hannibal had been busy with his work before and still remembered to call.

 

Now Will wondered if there was more to Hannibal's silence. There were no police or FBI agents breaking down his door so Will felt confident that Hannibal continued to protect Will's story about the dead man in Louisiana. That had been a link between them, not something that would cause Hannibal to push Will away. Maybe the kiss really had been a mistake. Either Hannibal did regret the intimacy of their embrace and wanted to be as far from Will as possible, or he had been spurned by Will's retreat.

 

Will pinched the bridge of his nose and stood from his chair, sliding into his coat and heading downstairs. The complexity of human nature made each day a challenge for Will to navigate and manipulate, keeping each day interesting enough for time to pass. However, there were certain times like these where it just made him tired and consider moving to the middle of nowhere to live in the wilderness with his dogs.

 

It was a short drive to FBI headquarters and Will recognized Hannibal's car parked in the parking lot. Will parked his car but sat for a few minutes behind the wheel, working through each possible scenario and result. A part of him considered leaving. He wanted Hannibal to choose a partnership with Will, not simply accept what was thrust upon him. But Will reminded himself that he told Hannibal that his request would keep Will away, and Hannibal had made no such request. If Hannibal was wavering, Will would tilt his world back in the proper direction.

 

The building was almost empty, most people done for the day and gone home before the light snowfall accumulated on the roads. Will picked up a visitor's badge and followed the directions given to him down the halls towards Hannibal's lecture hall. Will was grateful that he had taken the time to forge enough connections in the FBI so that they did not insist on an escort. Hannibal's office was further down the hallway but Will's pace slowed when he heard voices coming from Hannibal's lecture hall.

 

Will glanced just beyond the doorframe and took in the sight of Hannibal leaning against the table at the front of the lecture podium and a woman sitting on the table beside him. The woman had long, wavy brown hair, soft cheekbones and caring eyes. Though Will had never met her personally, he knew her to be Doctor Alana Bloom, a psychiatrist, professor and consultant profiler with the FBI on the side. Will would applaud her for such achievements if she didn't currently have her hand resting familiarly on Hannibal's arm.

 

"You're not a monster," she was saying in soothing tones, "but you need to accept what happened and move on, leave that part of you in your past where it belongs."

 

If Will was the devil, whispering sweet temptation into Hannibal's ear, then Alana was the proverbial angel weighing down Hannibal's opposite shoulder. Will didn't want the killer to be buried in the past, but instead wished for Hannibal to embrace it, to remember how righteous it had felt to cut down his family's killers. He wanted Hannibal to find his path alongside Will and blossom. Alana wanted the opposite, coaxing Hannibal into denying his instincts to instead become a well-behaved tool and spectacle for the FBI's uses.

 

Will wanted to slice Alana open and scatter her pieces so far apart that no one would ever find a hint of her. He would cut her into one inch cubes; each slide of the blade through skin, organ and bone would be another wave of satisfaction for him. Will wouldn't eat her. Instead he would leave her across the wilderness for scavenging animals to find. He was positively vibrating with the urge, his nails scraping his palms.

 

He could not indulge; it would draw too much attention to Hannibal and to those in his immediate circle. Will told himself to leave; the smart thing would be to retreat until he was fully in control again. But Will refused to leave them alone for Alana to whisper in Hannibal's ear and undo all of Will's work. Will took five silent steps down the hall, took a deep breath to centre himself, and walked back towards the lecture hall so that his footsteps would echo.

 

Will turned the corner, paused, and knocked hesitantly on the open door. Both Hannibal and Alana looked over and Hannibal's arm slid neatly away from Alana's touch. "I didn't mean to interrupt," Will lied. He approached without invitation and felt a more secure calmness wash over him when Hannibal's body instinctively angled towards Will. This allowed him to display a smile without strain to Alana as he offered a hand. "Doctor Will Graham; I don't believe we've met."

 

"No, we haven't," Alana smiled back and shook his hand. "Doctor Alana Bloom. I'm one of Hannibal's colleagues here."

 

Will inclined his head and then gave in to his desire to focus on Hannibal. "I apologize if I am unwelcome. When you did not call I grew concerned."

 

"I meant to call but Alana and I got wrapped up in discussion." Hannibal sounded sincere but he was refusing to meet Will's gaze, which did not bode well. How long had Hannibal and Alana been speaking before Will arrived? How much had Alana unwoven?

 

Will had been taking his hold over Hannibal for granted, assuming without confirmation. It was time now to truly put Hannibal to the test, to see where they stood. "Then I will interrupt no further." Will offered another polite smile to them both and then walked evenly out of the lecture hall, continuing his gait even when he heard Hannibal mutter something to Alana before pursing Will out of the room.

 

"Will, wait." Will allowed Hannibal to catch his arm, still and turn him. How pleased with him Will was. How easy it was to imagine the invisible tether looped around them both, and how beautiful Hannibal looked accepting that pull to keep them close. Evidently Alana may have plucked at a few threads but had unravelled nothing of importance. "Forgive me."

 

Will touched a hand to Hannibal's cheek. "Look at me," he ordered, and at last their eyes met. There was a storm of turmoil there, which ran much deeper than just Hannibal's thoughts about Will and a possible relationship between them. Hannibal was questioning _everything_. In that moment Will decided that he was going to reward Hannibal handsomely. "You are filled with such conflict."

 

Hannibal broke eye contact but only to press his cheek more firmly against Will's palm. "But this feels right," Hannibal confessed.

 

As Hannibal's eyes slid closed, he missed the sight of Will's feral smile. He could kiss Hannibal then, or push Hannibal to his knees to claim his mouth. Hannibal wouldn't push him away. But it wasn't a very fun game if Will didn't make Hannibal ask for it, to vocalize how much he wanted it. Almost a week after their night in the motel and Hannibal was still frozen at a fork in the road. Will didn't just want Hannibal to choose him; he wanted Hannibal to _beg_ for him, to forsake all but Will and the path he was planning to lead Hannibal along.

 

Will brushed his thumb over Hannibal's cheekbone, pressing just hard enough to indent against the bone. Then he withdrew his hand and body and watched as Hannibal's eyes flashed open with obvious panic. "Next Friday, Hannibal," Will let his warning darken his tone. "I do not tolerate tardiness."

 

Will didn't feel the need to look back over his shoulder as he walked away from Hannibal down the long, echoing hall. He knew Hannibal was rooted in place, and could feel the weight of Hannibal's eyes watching him go. In this moment Hannibal had no interest in Alana, waiting patiently back in the lecture hall to renew their previous conversation. In this moment, and for every moment going forward, Hannibal was Will's. He would give Hannibal as much slack as was needed for him to stretch and grow, but Hannibal was too lovely on a leash to be let go.


	8. Chapter 8

Hannibal lay on his back, staring at the darkened ceiling as he struggled to catch his breath. His clock informed him that it was barely past 3am, Friday morning. Far too early to be awake considering that he had a full day at work and then a session with Will that he refused to miss. Not after the shudder that had worked through his body at Will's warning reminder to arrive promptly. Hannibal could reassure himself that, because this was the last class before lessons ended for a two week Christmas break, he would only have to sit at his desk and watch the students write their exams. But that didn't help considering that he had lost sleep every night this week to increasingly fascinating and terrifying dreams.

 

Sex and death: what many would argue to be the two biggest motivators for the human condition. Hannibal's dreams revolved around both. Each night Hannibal would look upon a corpse, displayed in different ways but each with some twisted meaning that Hannibal understood too readily. Sometimes Hannibal was awash with blood, the murder weapon clutched tightly in one hand – sometimes a knife, otherwise a gun. Other times Hannibal would be watching the act being performed by a shrouded figure, dedicated like a pupil watching a master.

 

The violence and gore never woke Hannibal up. That always came later, once Hannibal had been pressed against the nearest solid surface – the grass, a tree, a wall and tonight, a large, soft bed – and fucked raw. The shroud would be drawn back and Will would be above him – _in him_ – and whispering praises to a prodigy, favoured student. Hannibal would accept the marks left across his body from Will's nails and teeth and would score Will's skin in return, refusing to let anyone else mistake either of them as anything other than a cohesive pair.

 

Hannibal always woke up before he finished, leaving himself flustered and agitated. He always spent a few minutes trying to fight his instinct, telling himself that touching himself to thoughts of his therapist did not bode well for his sanity. But Hannibal's hand would always trail down as the memories of his dreams stayed sharp behind his eyes and it would never take more than a few tight tugs for Hannibal to be spilling himself across his hand while choking on Will's name.

 

It was after these moments, after Hannibal had gone to the washroom to wipe himself clean, wash his hands, and curl back up in bed that left him the most unsettled. Hannibal clutched the blankets tighter around himself and replayed his newest dream over, relishing in it. Only in the dark privacy of his apartment would a tiny part of himself admit that he wanted everything he dreamed. Only here, away from the critical gaze of society could Hannibal avoid the guilt he should be feeling at cherishing these dreams.

 

He shouldn't want his therapist – as a friend or lover. He shouldn't want Will to be as unspeakably dark inside as Hannibal was. He shouldn't want Will to have never been quite the same after shooting that man for killing his dog, the way Hannibal was never quite the same after killing those two men. It was horrible to want Will to be as damaged as Hannibal was, just so he would have someone in the world he wouldn't have to pretend for any longer. More than anything else, Hannibal shouldn't get excited at the idea of indulging in death and sex with Will, like a vengeful pair of Grim Reapers stalking the earth side by side.

 

But he did. He wanted it all. And he feared that if he looked close enough and opened himself up in return, he would be disappointed. Hannibal was terrified that he would find that Will was just like everyone else, forcing Hannibal to admit that he really was alone, and that no one would willingly choose to stand by Hannibal's side if they knew of the shadows inside him, only ever _just_ contained and held at bay.

 

#

 

"Hannibal, you're early," Will said in greeting as Hannibal stepped into the office.

 

He had already brushed the snow from his coat down at the front door, and pointedly toed off his wet shoes after hanging up his coat to avoid tracking slush across Will's office floor. For some reason it felt intimate talking with Will in socked feet, but after all the dreams Hannibal had been harbouring, he supposed that was the least of his concerns.

 

"I heeded your warning," Hannibal said.

 

Will's smile was pleased. "Have a seat. Would you like a drink to warm yourself up?"

 

"Red wine?" Hannibal tested. He wasn't going to bring up the ethics of drinking in therapy. After all, he wasn't paying for this and it wasn't _really_ therapy. This was just two like-minded men using the ruse of therapy to talk for an hour uninterrupted without anyone asking questions.

 

"Of course," Will agreed smoothly and disappeared into a back room, returning with a bottle of wine and two thin-stemmed wine glasses a moment later. "This is one of my favourite vintages from Italy. I hope it is to your taste," Will said as he poured the two glasses and handed one off to Hannibal before they both took their seats.

 

Hannibal swirled the wine in his glass, took a deep whiff and then a small sip. He could feel Will watching him and enjoyed putting on a bit of a show. Hannibal's dreams had biased him towards slight recklessness. Hannibal hummed as he swallowed the wine and then took another sip. "It's excellent."

 

"I'm glad you approve." Will took his own sip and then they both set their glasses aside. "And I am pleased by your attendance. I wondered if I might've scared you off."

 

"A hard feat to achieve, I'm afraid," Hannibal laughed under his breath.

 

"You appeared quite conflicted the last time we spoke, and did not seem very eager for my presence before or after that," Will pointed out, unwilling to let Hannibal hide behind non-answers. "Yet you came tonight – early, in fact."

 

"I did." It felt like a confession. Maybe it was. "I thought a lot about that night in the motel room, like you told me to. And my thoughts were further muddled by dreams that felt far too real and made me wish too strongly that they were real." Will took another sip of wine but his attention was unwavering. Hannibal continued, "Every instinct led me back here but I fought it."

 

"Why?"

 

Hannibal didn't respond because he didn't know what answer was the truest. Fear of rejection, and fear of loss. The longer Hannibal came to these sessions, the better Will would know and understand him. That meant that each visit increased the odds of Will discovering the urges locked deep within Hannibal and bringing an abrupt end to the comfort of their conversations. And even if Will didn't reject Hannibal, it seemed inevitable that Hannibal would lose him anyway. Everyone Hannibal had ever allowed himself to care about had been ripped from his grasp too soon, too violently.

 

Will was too good at what he did. "You are reserved and solitary. You have lost many people you care about and you can't help but wonder if their suffering and deaths are somehow caused by the fact of them knowing you," Will summarised like Hannibal was a textbook he had skimmed the previous weekend. "It's almost logical to assume that they died because they got too close to you, going by your track record, so you keep everyone at arm's reach where they can't be hurt."

 

Hannibal swallowed hard and kept his eyes downward where they could not be caught by Will's searching ones. Between Hannibal's FBI file and their conversations, Hannibal couldn't pretend that Will was uninformed about the track record he referenced. "Do you think it's true? That it's because they knew me?"

 

Will sighed, not with annoyance but with a tired sadness that had Hannibal glancing up. "I sense in you an urge to control and protect, and it influences who you pick," Will told him. "It gives you purpose and makes you feel like you're doing good, but it also means that you surround yourself with those who are weaker. They may care for you, but they are not strong enough to stand by your side and survive what you face."

 

It wasn't a ' _no_ ' and Hannibal felt his chest constrict. "It's better if no one else gets dragged into the mess of my existence."

 

"On the contrary," Will argued easily. "There would be nothing wrong with becoming involved with someone who is strong and capable enough to endure and excel with you."

 

"Meaning you."

 

Will raised an eyebrow. "Do you disagree?"

 

Hannibal shook his head but took another sip of wine as an excuse to steel his courage. "There's still a lot you don't know about me."

 

"And there's a lot you don't yet know about me," Will reminded him. "To date have either of us faltered?"

 

"No," Hannibal said, feeling his uncertainties fade and his desires mount. He wasn't ready to confess his darkest secrets yet; this moment was too perfect to potentially ruin. It was safer to keep those dark thoughts of blood and split flesh locked away in the corners of his mind. He had tamed that years ago out of necessity to survive society. But restraining those urges didn't mean Hannibal had to deny himself from everything Will _was_ offering. "I want you, Will," Hannibal avowed, "If you'll have me."

 

His heart was pounding in his chest and there was a nervous buzz in his ear. However, Hannibal didn't miss the next words that came from Will's lips. "Hannibal, come here." Hannibal rose to his feet and stepped forward like he had been programmed to do it, like he was being tugged closer by an invisible collar around his neck. Hannibal didn't need further command and as he came to stand directly in front of Will's chair, Hannibal sank smoothly to his knees. He kept his eyes on the floor but leaned into it when Will's fingers brushed hair from his face. "Hannibal."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Do you want this?"

 

Hannibal licked his lips. "Yes."

 

"Then you will meet my gaze and you will not look away." Will's fingers were in Hannibal's hair and it would have been easy for Will to tilt Hannibal's head back, but he didn't. "Do I make myself clear?"

 

Hannibal's eyes traced the inseam of Will's pants, the rise and fall of his chest, and finally met Will's eyes. They were dark and open and honest and Hannibal realized that there would be no lies between them during this. "Very clear," Hannibal promised. "I want this, Will." He licked his lips again and swallowed when Will tracked the movement. "Please."

 

Will's hands dropped to his lap, unlatching the buckle of his belt and then sliding it free of his pants. Hannibal watched the leather of the belt bow over the armrest of the chair, set aside this time. Hannibal's eyes flashed back to Will's hands popping the button of his pants and pausing. One finger tapped under Hannibal's chin and Hannibal looked back up to Will's face. "You may do the rest."

 

Hannibal tried to keep his hands steady as he reached for and pulled down the zipper of Will's pants. Will lifted his hips and Hannibal got Will's pants dragged over the swell of his ass before turning his attention to Will's underwear. Will wasn't hard yet but Hannibal looked back up and saw the open hunger in Will's eyes. Hannibal leaned forward, pleased when Will's legs spread wider to accommodate him, and brushed the flat width of his tongue against the outline of Will's cock.

 

Will's hips shifted and he hissed quietly, the noise so soft that it could almost be mistaken for an intake of breath. Except that it wasn't, and Hannibal repeated the action a second and then third time to hear the noise again and again. He could smell the musk of Will's arousal when he nosed against Will's hardening length before lapping at the head through his cotton underwear and it was an intoxicating scent that had Hannibal's body burning with need.

 

When Hannibal could trace the full outline of Will's stiff cock in his underwear with his lips, Hannibal leaned back just enough to hook his fingers beneath the elastic of Will's underwear. It slid down easily and hooked beneath Will's balls. Hannibal placed one hand on Will's strong thigh and reached forward with his other hand, gripping Will's base tightly and angling him upward. Then Hannibal leaned forward and licked from the grip of his fingers up to Will's tip, lapping away the precome there. As he did so he remembered his order and looked up the expanse of Will's body so that their eyes could meet.

 

Will raised a hand and slid his fingers back into Hannibal's hair, soothing at first and then possessive as Hannibal continued to lick and tease at Will's shaft. When Will had had enough teasing, his fingers curled and knotted tightly in Hannibal's hair, tugging with a new, silent order. Hannibal moaned and melted into the sensation of being led, giving himself over entirely as Will pulled Hannibal's mouth upward until Will's cock was nudging against his lips.

 

"You like that, do you?" Will purred, always so perceptive. Normally Hannibal detested people studying and probing him, trying to identify the different facets of Hannibal's being. But with Will it felt relieving to have someone who understood him so easily that Hannibal didn't have to explain or justify anything. On top of that, Hannibal spent so much energy every day keeping himself in line and playing the part society expected. With Will, he just had to give in. It felt good to be led and controlled so that for a few minutes Hannibal was not responsible for his own actions.

 

Hannibal tried to close his mouth around Will's cock but was held back, a mere inch where only Hannibal's tongue could swipe fruitlessly. Will bowed forward to murmur in Hannibal's ear. "I'll make you choke on it by the end."

 

Hannibal clutched at Will's thigh tightly and released a shaky breath. "Please."

 

"I love how willing you are to beg for it," Will praised and sat back in his chair, pulling Hannibal's head forward in the same movement. Hannibal spread his lips and let Will's cock invade his mouth, spreading his lips and jaw wider to make room. Will didn't push too deeply – yet. He only filled Hannibal's mouth with about two inches and then brushed his free thumb against Hannibal's spread bottom lip. "Have you begged like this for others?"

 

Hannibal withdrew from Will's cock and licked away the saliva that had accumulated at the corners of his mouth from the intrusion. "There has never been anyone else like you," Hannibal said. He had never met anyone else that he trusted to take the lead the way he trusted Will. There was no one else Hannibal believed was strong and capable enough to match him.

 

Will was openly pleased by the response and ducked down to steal a quick, breathless kiss. It was over before Hannibal had time to respond, to do more than register the way his heart fluttered at the contact. Then Hannibal's mouth was being willingly pushed back down on Will's cock and he took it deeper this time, at least three inches before he hollowed his cheeks and sucked welcomingly. Will's thigh tensed beneath Hannibal's hand and he groaned into the privacy of the office. "And there will never be anyone else after me."

 

Hannibal moaned his agreement and began to bob his head, spurred on by the possessive heat in Will's voice. He would suck hard each time he brought the crown of Will's cock to the circle of his lips and then would swallow Will back down, taking a little more each time. Will continued to stroke Hannibal's hair whenever he wasn't gripping it tightly enough for Hannibal's eyes to bead with tears. Hannibal had never thought that being used for someone else's pleasure could feel _so good_.

 

He was hard in his pants and finding it difficult to stop himself from shifting his weight, just to feel the fabric of his pants drag against his swollen length. Hannibal barely realized that he was moving his hand from Will's thigh and downward but Will didn't miss it, and his voice was sharp and matched the slight ache Hannibal felt when his hair was pulled in warning. "Don't."

 

Hannibal didn't argue; he didn't question. He only relaxed his mouth and sank his mouth down until his nose brushed the wiry curls surrounding Will's base. Will groaned loudly, his breathing coming in a bit short. Hannibal focused on not choking as his gag reflex twitched, precome smearing against the roof of his mouth and dribbling down his throat. He could tell by the amount of precome that Will was getting closer, and Hannibal was eager to be the one to push Will over the edge.

 

"Hannibal, you have been neglecting your first order."

 

In an instant Hannibal's eyes flashed upward to meet Will's own. The angle was awkward and had his neck aching but Hannibal ignored his discomfort. His mouth continued to bob on Will's cock as their eyes held, and it wasn't long before Will's hips began to rise off the chair to follow Hannibal's pace. Hannibal felt Will push on the back of his head again but this time he fought it, refusing to look away and fail Will again. Understanding, Will held Hannibal's head in place and began to fuck up into his mouth with claiming, greedy thrusts.

 

Hannibal choked and blinked away his tears but didn't move away. He moaned openly for Will and kept his mouth spread open, brushing the underside of Will's cock with his tongue at every opportunity. Hannibal was greedy in return, watching with hunger as Will's cheeks flushed and his eyes darkened. Will was panting noticeably now, his lips parted as he alternated between watching Hannibal's mouth and his eyes. "You're going to swallow what I give you, aren't you?" Will asked with no concern that Hannibal would disappoint him.

 

Hannibal nodded as much as he was able and sucked harder in silent promise. A few more thrusts was all it took before Will's hips were stuttering fully off the chair, Will shoving Hannibal's mouth down to his base and holding him there. As Will ground against Hannibal's mouth and fucked his come to the back of Hannibal's throat, Hannibal swallowed down everything that he could in breathless gulps. Once Will was spent he withdrew and Hannibal gasped air into his lungs and then licked away the last bit of come he had missed at the corner of his mouth.

 

He didn't have permission to move but Hannibal's legs and knees were aching and he moved to sit fully on the ground, his legs curled up beside him. He was still out of breath and his heart was hammering frantically, and even though he was still hard in his pants, Hannibal was swept up in a wave of satiation. Will's legs were still spread wide to leave Hannibal space, and it was with a quiet contentment that Hannibal rested his head on Will's thigh and breathed deeply, eyes sliding closed.

 

Will's hand remained in his hair but the heat and need were gone, replaced by caring warmth. Hannibal shivered pleasantly as Will stroked his hair in sweeping arcs, and he nuzzled Will's thigh in what he hoped was a clear sign of appreciation. Will shifted in his chair and lips kissed Hannibal's sweaty temple. "You are lovely," Will informed him quietly. "Would you like some relief?"

 

Hannibal nodded and looked up, wondering what else Will had in store for him. Will's words had sparked another rush of arousal at the base of his spine, making Hannibal's hips rise uselessly in search of friction. "I had originally considered having you in your chair as you stroked yourself, on display for me," Will's voice remained soft despite the sexualized images he was invoking. "But I do not think I want you out of reach at the moment, so you may touch yourself where you sit."

 

It was only at Will's words that Hannibal's hands began to tug at the clasp of his pants and shove them out of the way impatiently. He was already so sensitive to touch with his mounting arousal that Hannibal groaned Will's name as soon as his fist circled himself. It felt good and he knew he wouldn't last long, but Hannibal also suspected that it wasn't the best angle for Will to watch. Although Will didn't chide him or try to reposition him, Hannibal wanted Will to watch this.

 

He turned to sit with his back against Will's chair, legs spread as widely as they could around the restricting fabric of his pants. Only his cock hung out of his pants since he was too eager now to bother undressing further. Hannibal's hand gripped his cock again and tugged harshly while his head fell back to rest on the small section of cushion between Will's thighs. His eyes met Will's again and Hannibal forced himself to keep his eyes open even when his body spasmed and rocked with each stroke of his dry palm against his shaft.

 

Will held Hannibal's gaze easily, one of his hands smoothing through Hannibal's hair and his other hand resting against the bared column of Hannibal's throat. The weight was not constricting enough to obstruct Hannibal's airflow but Will's hand was _present_ and unforgettable, his fingers and palm curled against delicate skin. Hannibal's toes curled in his socks against the hardwood floor and his abused lips parted with shameless moans, eyesight crossing as pleasure consumed him. All he needed was for Will to tilt Hannibal's head back further, forcing his back to bow as their lips met for Hannibal to spill himself across his fingers and cry out into Will's mouth.

 

Hannibal's hips rose and fell a few times until his body was spent, the proof of Hannibal's release staining his fingers and shirt. He was boneless as he slumped back against the chair, struggling to remain responsive to Will's kiss until Will finally relented and let Hannibal rest. It was silent in the office but comfortable. Hannibal didn't know how long they stayed like that with Hannibal's eyes closed while Will pet his hair.

 

"What did you dream about?" Will asked eventually, voice curious but not demanding.

 

Hannibal didn't answer for a few minutes, content to simply sit with his head resting against Will's knee while Will stroked his hair soothingly. Hannibal sifted through the memories of his recent dreams, trying to pick the one he was most willing to share. He figured that describing one where Will was the killer might not be well received; it would seem accusatory for a profiler to dream of someone becoming a murderer.

 

When he was satisfied with his choice, Hannibal spoke. "A few nights ago I dreamt that I was in the interrogation room at work sitting across from a man I tried to have put away three years ago – he raped fourteen different women. He was smirking at me even though he was chained to the chair and I broke the two-way mirror. There was no one watching in the room behind and I slotted the shards of glass into his skin until he bled out."

 

Will's hand had never paused in its familiar brush through Hannibal's hair. If Will was affected by Hannibal's description of his dream, he wasn't making it obvious. Hannibal considered looking up but didn't want to risk seeing fear or disgust on Will's face. "Tell me..." Hannibal braced himself for the worst. "Do many killers get released?"

 

Hannibal looked up sharply in surprise, not having expected that direction of questioning. "Too many," he said after a moment of consideration.

 

"It must frustrate you," Will mused, hand moving from Hannibal's hair to softly caress the angle of his jaw.

 

"It does," Hannibal agreed. Even though his body was spent, Hannibal's skin continued to tingle at Will's touch. "Knowing that I have done everything I can to bring them to justice and watching them slip away, unpunished, because of the politics and bureaucracy of the police and FBI." Both of them were watching each other openly, full understanding passing back and forth between them. "Knowing that them being out in the world means more will suffer and die and there's little or nothing I can do to bring it to an end."

 

With complete seriousness, Will asked, "Have you ever thought about killing someone before? Besides in your youth, of course."

 

"Of course not," Hannibal was quick to retort.

 

Will's expression remained calm and open. "Not even those killers who slip through the cracks of our system and continue to wreck havoc on the world?"

 

Hannibal opened his mouth to disagree again but then hesitated. He could easily argue that he had no control over his subconscious and what mental images it stitched together while he was in REM sleep. However, he had no excuse for the hours he had laid in bed, wide awake, and relived those dreams on a loop. The way his muscles had tensed with eagerness as his heart flooded him with adrenaline.

 

"It would be wrong..." Hannibal was aware of how much conviction he lacked.

 

Will knew too. "By whose standards?"

 

"Society."

 

Slowly, thoughtfully, Will's finger traced the outline of Hannibal's lips. "What has society done to earn your loyalty?" Will posed the question and left it there to hang in the air. Hannibal didn't think Will was expecting an answer then; at least, he wasn't going to insist that Hannibal provide one this evening. But it was a question Will knew would echo in Hannibal's mind long after this stretched out moment.

 

Instead of answering, Hannibal reached up towards Will, who leaned into his reach and was easily pulled down into a kiss. Hannibal smiled into it, realizing that they were already growing familiar with the weight of their lips pressed together. When they pulled apart he groaned and laughed softly. "My back is beginning to ache."

 

"Stay a minute longer," Will requested with a light hand on Hannibal's shoulder, and Hannibal remained where he was. Will's fingers returned to his hair and Hannibal was certain that regardless of the ache traveling up his spine, he could probably sleep where he was if left alone long enough. "Do you have plans scheduled for next Friday?"

 

"No." The answer came easily. School was out and he had no family or friends to visit for the holiday. "Unless I get called to a crime scene. Jack promised to try to call on one of the other profilers over the next few weeks but I'll have to go if it's another murder by the killer leaving me messages in the skin of his victims."

 

Will's nails scraped lightly across Hannibal's scalp and he shivered at the pleasant tingle it caused. "And tomorrow?"

 

"Nothing," Hannibal confirmed.

 

"I would be pleased if you agreed to join me at the opera next Friday," Will offered. "My treat."

 

Hannibal didn't lift his head right away; not until he was certain that his expression wasn't too embarrassing. He was surprised, nervous and excited in equal measures, but then reminded himself that the opera wouldn't be that different. They met in this office as a good meeting ground, but they had already spent a significant amount of time together outside of the safe, sturdy walls of Will's office.

 

Except this _was_ going to be _very_ different. Will wanted to treat Hannibal to the opera – one of his favourite activities which Hannibal had already admitted to not being able to afford. The simple thought and offer meant more to Hannibal than he was willing to put into words. The way his heart was speeding up was dangerous in the way it tempted him to give in and say yes, to indulge and let Will in closer than Hannibal had ever let another person in his adult life.

 

"And what's tomorrow?" Hannibal hedged.

 

"I thought a new suit for you to wear to the opera would be nice," Will said.

 

Now Hannibal lifted his head and turned slightly so that he could look up at Will directly. "I could never accept all of that."

 

Will remained in his chair, eyes flickering between Hannibal's own, gauging each emotion and thought prompting Hannibal's reactions. "You can, and you will, because I want to give it to you," Will stated. "Plus, I hate my mother's money and would be happy to put it to better use by spending it on you."

 

Hannibal wanted to argue, but realized that there was no value in doing so. It was very likely that Hannibal would break first if he continued to put up a fight, because he wanted to say yes. And he silently assured himself that it wouldn't hurt to say yes. Will was offering and wanted to share this with Hannibal; there was no sense of obligation in his words. It would make both of them happy. So Hannibal agreed. "I accept."

 

"Excellent." Hannibal wasn't expecting Will's smile to knock the air from his lungs, but it did. He followed blindly as Will hooked a hand under his arm and helped Hannibal to stand, supporting his weight while Hannibal stretched out his stiff legs. They both tucked their cocks away and got their pants zippers done up. Then Will pulled Hannibal down into another kiss, this one possessive and satisfied from a man who had gotten what he wanted. Hannibal kissed back because there was no loser in this scenario.

 

"I should let you get home before the snow gets too deep," Will said when they pulled apart, both of them glancing out the window at the gently falling snow.

 

"You should," Hannibal smiled in amusement and kissed Will again, who welcomed the kiss immediately.

 

It took another few minutes for them to disentangle their lips and limbs, and for Hannibal to make it over to the door so that he could pull on his boots and coat. He waited at Will's request until the lights in the office had been turned off and together they walked downstairs and outside into the small back parking lot. The snow wasn't that deep but Hannibal suspected that the wind tugging at his coattails would cause the snow to drift.

 

"I'll text you the address when I get home; the shop is in town. Shall we meet at 11am?" Will asked as they both fished their car keys from their pockets.

 

"11am sounds good," Hannibal nodded.

 

He had his key in hand but hadn't opened his door yet, not quite ready for this encounter to end. Will seemed to be thinking along the same line because he stepped closer until Hannibal's back was pressed against the shape of his car's side. "Drive safe, Hannibal," Will ordered. "I have already planned on a re-enactment."

 

"I'll drive safely," Hannibal promised. He didn't look away from Will's smile, let alone move, until Will finally bid him goodnight and walked around to get into his own car. Hannibal did the same and made sure to drive as carefully as humanly possible to ensure he made it back to his apartment and kept his promise.


	9. Chapter 9

"So you actually showed up," Will laughed as he looked Hannibal over. He took in the stiffness of Hannibal's shoulders, juxtaposed to the practiced blankness of his face – betraying his discomfort. Will wondered which motive was strongest in getting Hannibal here; his desire for a suit he could not normally afford, or a desire to please Will. He wouldn't mind either.

 

"I did," Hannibal turned to greet Will with a small, polite smile. "It would be rather rude of me not to."

 

"I'm pleased," Will said, and watched Hannibal's shoulders loosen enough to be a noticeable change. Will placed a hand on Hannibal's shoulder to pull them down further, and Hannibal followed the hint. "Let's go upstairs."

 

Will let Hannibal lead the way inside and upstairs. It was amusing to see the way Hannibal was ushered into place on a podium in front of three floor-length mirrors as soon as they entered the office. While an assistant helped Hannibal out of his coat, the seamstress, Rose, came to stand beside Will as they both looked Hannibal over.

 

"You haven't brought anyone to me before," she prodded tactfully.

 

"He is quite a special one," Will said fondly.

 

"When do you need the suit done by?" she asked as she pulled a small notepad from one pocket of her large sweater, and a fabric measuring tape from the other.

 

"We're attending the opera next Friday."

 

Rose sent him a displeased look but jumped into action immediately. "In that case we better get started. Diane, if you would please collect the fabrics for us to look over," Rose waved her assistant away and unfurled the fabric tape measure. "Mister Lecter, please face forward and maintain your comfortable standing posture."

 

Hannibal looked over his shoulder at Will with a raised eyebrow before he was nudged into facing the mirrors again. "Yes, I told her your name when I organized this," Will answered Hannibal's silent question. "Rose is the best I've ever found, before and after moving to Baltimore, and I will trust you temporarily in her capable hands."

 

"Don't sound too strained, William darling," Rose teased. Hannibal didn't even get his head turned towards Will fully before his head was turned back yet again. "Face forward, please, or else you'll be attending the opera nude."

 

"I could imagine that to be a lovely sight," Will said boldly. Rather than get Hannibal in trouble for moving again, Will relocated his chair to sit within Hannibal's peripheral vision. He was just in time to watch the blush on Hannibal's cheeks blossom.

 

"Will, please," Hannibal scolded under his breath.

 

Will smiled and relented. As much fun as it was pushing Hannibal's boundaries, edging him out of the comfort zone society had taught him to maintain, it was just as pleasing to let Hannibal centre himself and relax. Will watched every brush of Rose's fingers and measuring tape against Hannibal's body but she remained professional and Will stayed seated. He could restrain himself until they were in private and Will could wipe away the weight of Rose's hands with his own.

 

He allowed himself to be distracted by the collection of fabrics Diane brought back into the room. While Rose finished up the last of her measurements, Will sifted through the material options. Not only did he look at how the fabric appeared in the light and shadow, but he also ran the pads of his fingers along each square. Greedily he imagined each piece to be the only barrier between him and Hannibal's skin.

 

"Any catching your imagination?" Rose questioned as she jotted down a few numbers in her notepad.

 

"Two," Will said. He stood, one piece of fabric in each hand, and approached Hannibal with both held out in offering. One was a classic black and the other was a deep blue that slid between Will's fingers like water. Hannibal looked between Will and the fabric. "The final decision rests with you."

 

Hannibal didn't argue. He took both pieces of fabric and smoothed his fingers over them the way Will had moments earlier. Hannibal's thumb caressed the blue fabric tellingly, but apparently Hannibal was feeling somewhat bold as well. "Choose which you'd prefer to see me wearing."

 

Will saw heat in Hannibal's eyes, echoing their encounter from the previous night. Will took both fabric squares back, his fingers brushing the back of Hannibal's hand during the movement, and then handed the blue fabric to Rose. "This one, please."

 

"You're lucky you are my best customer," Rose clicked her tongue and disappeared, mentioning that she wanted to confirm they had enough stock.

 

When they were alone, Hannibal faced Will fully. "You are shameless."

 

"You are no better," Will accused and caressed Hannibal from shoulder to fingertips. Hannibal allowed the contact but didn't initiate more. It was different from the way he behaved in the privacy of Will's office but Will didn't mind.

 

In private Hannibal was beginning to display his desire for affection – both physical and emotional. He had lost everyone he cared about and had not been willing to risk dragging anyone else down with him. But Hannibal wanted it, craved it, and the more Will proved himself to be someone who could stand strong and not disappoint, the more open and receptive Hannibal became.

 

But _only_ in private. In Will's office, house, car or the motel, Hannibal confessed through his actions how badly he wanted to give in to Will fully. He would lean into touches, let his gaze become caught, and pull Will avariciously into hungry kisses. While Will was not normally one for kisses and affection, with Hannibal it was surprisingly easy to fall into it. Especially when it pleased Hannibal and put him at ease.

 

Will was not upset in the least that Hannibal maintained some form of distance between them in the public eye. He did not take it as a sign of shame. He was simply satisfied to know that this side of Hannibal was for Will alone, and he would not need to share. Will would return each kiss Hannibal offered him, and hold Hannibal with a possession that could not be mistaken.

 

"Both of you relax for a few more minutes," Rose chuckled as she re-entered the room. "Mister Lecter, I have taken the liberty of choosing a few shirts, waistcoats and ties for you to try on."

 

The next twenty minutes passed with Hannibal trying on different clothes in one of the private change rooms. Once Hannibal and Will had both come to an agreement on the best shirt, waistcoat and tie to go with the fabric of Hannibal's suit, Rose led Hannibal back in front of the mirrors with shirt and waistcoat donned to stick pins into fabric in preparation for the necessary alterations.

 

At last they were dismissed, Rose promising to have everything ready for pick-up on Thursday evening. She shook both of their hands and then excused herself, leaving them alone by the front door. Hannibal allowed Will to help him into his coat and Will welcomed the returned gesture afterwards.

 

"How does lunch sound?" Will asked casually, though he would do what was necessary to entice Hannibal to agree if he originally tried to argue. Will was becoming rather selfish with Hannibal's time and attention, admittedly.

 

"Good," Hannibal said. "But I have a proposition for you."

 

"Alright," Will accepted the challenge from Hannibal readily, already intrigued. They walked down the stairs but stayed just inside the door and out of the chill. He raised an eyebrow to prompt Hannibal when he remained silent.

 

"I'm going to go home now and you will refrain from talking me out of doing so," Hannibal stated. "And in return, I'll let you insist on taking me home after the opera next week."

 

Will considered Hannibal seriously, trying to peer through the mask Hannibal was slotting into place in preparation to venture back out into public. There had been no hint of fear of regret last night in Will's office with Hannibal resting between Will's spread legs, nor today when they first greeted one another. "You're pushing me away," Will assessed, keeping his voice even.

 

Hannibal's expression stayed bland, though Will caught a twitch at the corner of Hannibal's mouth. "I do not regret what we have done," Hannibal promised, letting his mask fall enough for Will to read the honesty in his eyes. "But I would appreciate some time on my own to get my thoughts in order. Please respect that."

 

Will reminded himself that Hannibal would not promise to come home with him after the opera – a suggestion he had been planning to whisper in Hannibal's ear after the final curtain fell – if he was uncomfortable with the idea of what would certainly happen as a result of agreeing. Will stepped closer until they were sharing air. Hannibal avoided Will's eyes for a moment and then finally looked directly at him.

 

"Are you mine?" Will whispered, smirking when he saw a shiver work through Hannibal's body. Hannibal didn't answer verbally but he inclined his head towards Will in admission. Appeased, Will pulled the collar of Hannibal's coat and shirt aside with a hand and bit down into the skin of Hannibal's upper shoulder. Hannibal's surprised intake of breath was addicting and Will swept his tongue over the imprint of his teeth before stepping back. "I will see you on Friday."

 

He moved to leave but a hand on his upper arm stopped him. "Will you be driving?" Hannibal wondered, arousal swimming in his eyes.

 

"Will you let me?"

 

"My address would have been in my file, which you would've memorized," Hannibal surmised. Will nodded. "Then I will see you at the entrance of my building at...?"

 

"Six thirty," Will said.

 

"Until then," Hannibal pushed the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, Will following him out. Hannibal headed one direction down the street and Will walked in the opposite direction towards his parking spot. It wasn't the end to the day that Will had envisioned, but he couldn't exactly regret today's results when it left him so much to anticipate in a week's time.

 

#

 

Will was itching to leave another body for Hannibal to find, to watch Hannibal pick apart and examine the intricacies of Will's design. However, it had been worth it to wait, knowing that there was nothing that could pull Hannibal away as Will parked outside of Hannibal's apartment building. No urgent crime scene to steal Hannibal's attention from Will's plan for the evening.

 

Hannibal had been waiting just inside the door, and stepped out when Will got out of the car and walked onto the sidewalk. Although the overhead lights above the building's entrance were cheap and glary, Will could tell instantly that Hannibal's new suit was a perfect fit. "You look very handsome," Will praised as his eyes raked over Hannibal openly.

 

Hannibal allowed the attention, returning it in kind. "You also look quite dashing." Will had worn his best suit and taken the time to comb through his curls, knowing Hannibal would notice and appreciate the effort.

 

Will held the passenger-side door open for Hannibal and then drove them the fifteen minutes to the opera house. He handed his keys to the valet and laughed when he caught Hannibal's expression. "You're flaunting for me like a peacock," Hannibal accused with amusement.

 

"There's been no one else I've wanted to bother for," Will admitted, offering an arm he wasn't sure Hannibal would accept considering the crowds swarming around them.

 

His smile mellowed when Hannibal took his arm and walked inside at Will's side. "I won't tell you to stop because I can tell you're having fun, but I can assure you that your money is not what has ensnared me."

 

"Ensnared, are you?" Will breathed into Hannibal's ear, realizing that Hannibal was teasing him just as much in return and relishing in the back-and-forth of it.

 

"Behave," Hannibal shushed him. "I'll be yours afterwards."

 

"Yes you will," he purred, but reined himself in. The reason he had chosen this activity was because it was something Hannibal would truly enjoy, and Will did not want to overshadow it. This was for Hannibal first, and for Will second.

 

There was enough time before the show started for Will to grab two glasses of wine for them to sip in their private viewing box. It was one of the best views in the theatre and Hannibal's slightly awed look proved that Hannibal was aware of this. They were far enough from any prying eyes that Hannibal was willing to lean over and kiss Will softly. "Thank you."

 

"It's all for you," Will said honestly – perhaps more of a confession that he originally planned – and basked in the gratefulness of Hannibal's expression before the lights were dimmed.

 

Originally Will had been planning to jerk Hannibal off in their private box to watch him squirm and try to remain silent. However, the enraptured look on Hannibal's face as the first singer started was too precious to be interrupted. Opera was not Will's favourite activity so he passed the time watching Hannibal instead. Will's smile was dangerously tender when the show ended and Hannibal was the first one out of his seat for a standing ovation. He didn't hide his smile and Hannibal looked bashful when he turned and found Will watching him.

 

The theatre began to empty but when Hannibal moved towards the box's door, Will caught his hand and held him back. "I thought we were going back to your house."

 

"We will, but there is always a champagne party for the opera elite in a large hall on this floor after each show," Will explained.

 

Hannibal gave Will a suspicious look. "I didn't think that was something that would appeal to you."

 

"It's not," Will agreed, feeling playful when he led Hannibal out of their box and down the hall. They could hear the noise of chatter and glasses clinking but Will walked them in the opposite direction halfway down the hallway and into a lavish public washroom. The men's room was as nicely decorated as the rest of the theatre with marble counters, spotless floors, and a few stalls with full-length doors of carved wood across from the row of urinals.

 

Hannibal looked around and then back at Will. "You have got to be joking." Will took one step closer but froze at Hannibal's next words. "Will this be payment for the suit and show?"

 

"Absolutely not," Will stated strongly. "This is not about repayment. I treated you to the suit and show because I knew they would make you happy. This is because I want to make you scream my name when anyone can hear and know that you belong to me." He refused to let Hannibal look away. "If this would only be you repaying a debt you feel you owe, tell me and I will drive you home."

 

Hannibal licked his lips and deliberated. "Can we lock the main door?"

 

"No."

 

Hannibal released a huffed breath and turned to step into the stall furthest from the door. Will slipped in behind him and latched the lock into place. Hannibal watched him, clearly wary even though he wasn't running. Will was practically vibrating with anticipation. "You can be so boyish in your excitement," Hannibal said.

 

Will held back from approaching, but just barely. "Tell me you want this, and make me believe it."

 

"I know you know how persuasive you can be," Hannibal's voice lowered. "But I assure you that I do not do what I don't want to. Now stop pretending to be proper and give me another mark because your last one has already faded."

 

It was all Will needed to step away from the stall door and into Hannibal's personal space. He dragged his hands, grip tight, up Hannibal's arms and down his front, feeling the slide of suit fabric and Hannibal's body against his palms. "I'm very glad I got you this," Will murmured as his hands continued to roam and grasp with ownership. "You are positively edible."

 

"I know you won't let me go to waste," Hannibal pressed his body into Will's touch. Will pushed him back against the stall wall and Hannibal grimaced. "Did it really have to be here?"

 

"Definitely," Will breathed against Hannibal's skin before starting to mouth down the column of his neck. "You'll just have to see how quiet you can be."

 

"I thought you said you wanted to make me scream," Hannibal said, though he had grown breathless at Will's ministrations.

 

Will pulled aside Hannibal's suit jacket and shirt collar to bestow new teeth marks into Hannibal's skin. This time he lingered long enough to suck a bruise in the middle of the indents, ensuring that it would last much longer than the last one had. "I like a challenge."

 

Hannibal was arching into the attention until he froze when they heard the bathroom door open and close. Will kept nipping at Hannibal's skin and with one hand reached down to palm Hannibal through the fabric of his new suit pants. Hannibal barely managed to bite his lip and stifle his gasp and Will laughed silently as he squeezed Hannibal's growing erection.

 

No one would be able to see two pairs of feet in the stall with the full length stall doors. The only thing that would give them away would be noises of pleasure from Hannibal; something that Will was determined to cause. He continued to stroke Hannibal to full hardness while the stranger pissed, washed his hands, and exited.

 

"I'm going to take you right here, Hannibal," Will refused to whisper. "And as much as you try to silence yourself, you will break for me." He got Hannibal's belt undone with deft fingers and snuck his hand into Hannibal's pants to circle his thumb around the head of Hannibal's cock. "You will scream so loud that everyone down the hall will be aroused and shuffling in their pants trying to hide it."

 

"Will—" Hannibal's groan was cut short when the bathroom door opened again. Will dipped his thumbnail into Hannibal's damp slit and memorized the buck of his hips paired with a sharp hiss. Seconds later Hannibal was blushing and he glared at Will for silently gloating.

 

Once the bathroom had emptied again, Will stepped back just enough to work on his own belt and pants zipper. He was hard without any physical contact and he pulled his cock free of his pants and underwear. "Turn around," Will ordered, pulling a packet of lube from his pocket.

 

"What about the suit?" Hannibal asked when he noticed that Will had not pulled out a condom alongside the lube. Despite his protest, Hannibal still turned.

 

Will shrugged. "Mine to soil, technically." He saw Hannibal's displeased look. "I'll have Rose make you a replacement. But truthfully, I imagined fucking you in this since I felt the fabric."

 

"I figured as much," Hannibal lamented, though with his pants halfway over his ass and his hands splayed on the marble wall, Hannibal wasn't exactly putting up a fight.

 

Eager to finally be inside Hannibal fully, Will coated two fingers at once and pulled Hannibal's pants and underwear down further. It was a beautiful sight to see Hannibal bend forward slightly and attempt to bow his legs against the binding of the fabric hanging around his knees. With his clean hand, Will pushed Hannibal's suit jacket, shirt and waistcoat partway up his back, exposing smooth skin and a lovely ass.

 

"I'm going to make you sing," Will promised as he inserted his two lubed fingers against Hannibal's hole. "If you ask nicely."

 

Hannibal's forehead thudded against the wall. "You bastard." Will laughed and pushed his fingers harder against Hannibal so that barely a fingernail slipped inside. Hannibal's groan echoed off the marble. "Will, please."

 

Will left his fingers where they were but rubbed the pad of his thumb against Hannibal's perineum. "Not good enough."

 

Hannibal arched back against Will's fingers. "What do you want me to say?"

 

Will leaned forward to bite the back of Hannibal's neck. "The pleading tone is a nice addition," he said, rubbing with more insistence. "But I want you to curse for me. I am enamoured with the idea of watching your restraint unravel beneath my fingers." He had thought about hearing Hannibal swear due to pleasure ever since he realized how proper Hannibal normally was with his speech.

 

"Fuck— _Fuck_!" Hannibal moaned on his second curse when Will slid both of his fingers inside in an even thrust. It was a tight fit for two fingers at once but Hannibal took it all. Will twisted them to spread lube and purred when Hannibal clenched experimentally around the intrusion.

 

"Is that the only curse word you know?" Will teased as he scissored his fingers, relishing in the slick wet noises of his fingers pushing through lube and against skin.

 

"Give me another finger," Hannibal demanded, another ' _fuck_ ' falling from his lips when Will shoved his fingers in harshly before withdrawing for more lube. The third finger slid in slowly with light but constant pressure next to the other two. Will grinned privately at the varied string of curses that Hannibal released with each centimetre Will pushed deeper. "You're doing so well for me."

 

Hannibal was halfway through indulging Will with another string of profanities, realizing that Will would reward him for each word, when the bathroom door opened again. Hannibal's curse morphed into a frustrated groan and then silence as multiple pairs of feet wandered in together. Will maintained the thrusting of his fingers with enough force that Hannibal's hips stuttered. Will bit affectionately into the curve of Hannibal's neck and shoulder while his hand moved at an angle that made the wet noises a little more obvious if someone was listening.

 

The group of men seemed happy to take their time, chatting loudly in front of the sinks. Ready to take advantage of the situation, Will removed his fingers and grabbed more lube to spread over his throbbing length. As he lined up the head of his cock against Hannibal's slicked hole, Hannibal tensed up and hissed under his breath, " _Wait—_!"

 

Will ignored him and thrust into Hannibal with a harsh upward buck of his hips. He felt his heart jump when Hannibal gasped loudly and then began to openly swear in a variety of languages ranging from what Will believed was Lithuanian to Danish and a bit of French. The other men in the washroom had all fallen silent but Will didn't give Hannibal a chance to recover his composure. He held Hannibal's hips tightly and fucked into his ass roughly, and groaned softly while Hannibal's voice broke on Will's name.

 

Hannibal brought a hand up to cover his mouth but it did little to help. The words had stopped spilling free but the hand just made Hannibal's panting sound harsher and more heated. The bathroom door banged open and closed behind hurried feet and Will rested his forehead in the dip between Hannibal's shoulder blades as they both laughed.

 

"You're despicable."

 

Will reached forward and encircled a hand around Hannibal's cock, feeling how swollen and hard he was. "You don't seem to mind in the slightest."

 

Hannibal didn't argue; he only shifted his body back, causing Will's cock to sink an extra half-inch deeper. Immediately Will could tell that his cock had nudged Hannibal's prostate judging by the way Hannibal tensed and bit into his hand to silence another moan. Keeping one hand around Hannibal's dick, Will held Hannibal's hip with his other hand and ground relentlessly against Hannibal's prostate.

 

Hannibal restarted his multi-lingual cursing again without prompting, egging Will on. Will started to pull out until only the head of his cock was spreading Hannibal's hole open and then thrust back in to the hilt. Their bodies rocked together, Hannibal swaying back and forth between Will's hand and cock spearing him over and over. Their breathing betrayed them and quickly left them gasping to fill their lungs.

 

"Do you know how appealing you look?" Will muttered into Hannibal's ear. "Rutting yourself like an animal into my hand and cock."

 

"Fuck, Will," Hannibal breathed quickly and unevenly. "Harder."

 

"Gladly," Will hummed. He flattened Hannibal fully against the wall and fucked him raw, making certain that Hannibal would feel Will inside him for days. Will wanted to stay inside Hannibal forever, keeping them joined and Hannibal spread open on Will's cock. But pushing through the tightening muscles of Hannibal's ass had Will quickly losing his rhythm. "I'm going to fill you with my come and make you walk out of this theatre with it dripping down your thighs."

 

Hannibal's hand reached back and grabbed Will's hip, dragging him closer. Will's hips stuttered with uneven thrusts as he panted against Hannibal's neck, and Hannibal was rutting back to take it all. The washroom door had opened again but Hannibal seemed too close to orgasm to care, muttering, "Fill me, come on."

 

"You two will be saved a special place in hell," a nasally, affronted voice informed them. "You are both disgusting and need some serious help."

 

Will would've laughed but the words had struck Hannibal like a well-aimed weapon, causing him to tense and pull away even though they were still out of sight. Angered by the stranger's attack and the negative effect it had had on Hannibal's comfort and desire, Will let Hannibal pull away. In the next moment, before Hannibal could grab him and hold him back, Will yanked the stall door open.

 

The man standing by the sinks looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide as he looked from Will's face down to his cock hanging out of the front of his pants. Will crossed his arms and leaned against the stall door, keeping Hannibal safe and out of sight. He memorized the man's greying hair, wrinkled forehead, small nose and pinched mouth. Will would remember this man and make him pay dearly later.

 

"Judging by the tightening of your pants, I'd say you have some underlying issues of your own to manage," Will pointed out. He took a half-step closer in warning and, knowing he was out of Hannibal's sight, allowed his expression to harden. The man stumbled backwards, recognizing the killer hidden beneath translucent skin. He realized that he had stumbled into the den of a monster and foolishly interrupted a cherished moment of passion with his mate.

 

"I-I'm sorry," the man stuttered.

 

' _You will be_ ,' Will mouthed and bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. The man paled. "I already have the only person I desire so I suggest you leave, _immediately_."

 

"Y-yes, I will. I'm sorry."

 

The man ran out of the room so quickly he nearly fell. Will watched him go and then returned to the stall, locking the door behind him. Hannibal was leaning back against the wall, cheeks red and cock soft. "Will, I—" Hannibal started to apologize, grimacing with obvious embarrassment. Will didn't let Hannibal finish his sentence, silencing him with a deep and demanding kiss. He parted Hannibal's lips with his own and swept his tongue along the roof of Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal returned the kiss for a long moment and then pulled away. "We shouldn't—"

 

"Do you think I give a single shit about what that man said?" Will asked. Hannibal shifted uncomfortably and Will reined himself in. "The only reason I care is because it upset you."

 

Hannibal turned his face away. "I shouldn't have let it."

 

Will pulled him into another kiss, this one warm and reassuring. He knew Hannibal was embarrassed about his reaction, but Will wasn't upset by it. "Easily fixed," he promised against Hannibal's lips and then slid to his knees, wrapping his mouth around Hannibal's soft cock.

 

Hannibal put a hand on top of Will's head, about to push him away, but then Will sucked and Hannibal's fingers knotted painfully tight in Will's hair. Will moaned at the way Hannibal was tugging on his hair and he licked and sucked wetly on Hannibal's length. Despite the brief hiccup in their encounter, it didn't take long for Hannibal to swell in Will's mouth.

 

Hannibal's cock was shorter than Will's but thicker, and even though Will wasn't normally one to get on his knees, he felt himself getting harder at the sensation of Hannibal's dick stretching his lips. He grabbed Hannibal's hips and led him into tentatively fucking Will's mouth until Hannibal's breath began to speed up.

 

Will sat back on his heels and stood in a fluid movement, watching the heat returning to Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal turned as Will stepped back into his personal space and it was as easy as an exhale for Will to coat himself in the last of the lube and slot himself back inside Hannibal's stretched hole. Will's arousal had never waned and as soon as he was encased in Hannibal's body again he started a ruthless rhythm. Both of them were gasping as they rocketed towards orgasm, and this time Hannibal showed no signs of restraint or bashfulness.

 

They came together, Will spilling inside Hannibal and fucking his seed deeper, and Hannibal spurting into Will's palm. Will kept stroking Hannibal's cock, filling the room with slick wet noises between the movement of his sticky hand and thrusting his cock through his come inside Hannibal's hole.

 

At last, when they were both spent and shaking, Hannibal slumped against the wall and Will lay heavily on Hannibal's back. He stayed inside Hannibal for long minutes, mouthing lazily at Hannibal's neck just below his hairline. At some point Will lifted his hand and without more than slight grumbling, Hannibal licked his palm and fingers clean.

 

"I hope you realize how unsanitary that was," Hannibal said when he was finished.

 

"It made me want to fuck you all over again," Will informed him. He nuzzled Hannibal's hair to breathe in his natural scent. He withdrew from Hannibal's body and tucked his softening cock back into his pants. Will tugged Hannibal back around and licked Hannibal's taste from his mouth. "You did wonderfully."

 

Hannibal pulled his pants and underwear back up around his hips but was noticeably lethargic. "So are you planning to take me home?"

 

"Absolutely," Will said, pleased that Hannibal did not seem uncomfortable at the thought. "Was the week away enough time?"

 

Hannibal relaxed and pulled Will against him, breathing in deeply against Will's skin. "Yes, I believe it was. Let's go home."

 

Will smiled, offered his arm and proudly walked Hannibal out of the washroom. "Would you like to have a glass of champagne on our way out?"

 

Hannibal sent Will a look and directed them towards the large staircase leading to the main floor. "Don't push your luck." Will laughed loudly enough to draw attention but both Will and Hannibal only had eyes for each other as they walked down the stairs and out the theatre doors.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: if anyone has a few extra minutes to spare to leave a comment on this chapter I would be eternally grateful. Work has turned into an 8-hour-a-day hell but reading your reviews always puts a smile on my face <3

Hannibal had been anxious that the next time he walked into Will's house it would be awkward, that he would've lost the comfort he had felt during his first visit. When Hannibal had followed behind Will after Buster's rescue, there had been no expectations dictated by history between them. Now Will had seen Hannibal at work, Hannibal had admitted to dreaming of killing Will, and had confessed to enjoying the murder of his family's killers. On top of that, they had made out in the motel, Hannibal had sucked Will off in his office, and willingly let himself get fucked in the opera washroom.

 

In the week Hannibal had spent alone after the fitting for his suit, he had slowly but surely talked himself into believing that they would flare like the brightest flame and then burn out. There was a heated passion between them and Hannibal could feel an emotional connection as well, but he feared that it wouldn't last and Will would fade like smoke.

 

Hannibal had prepared himself to enter Will's house and accept that lust wasn't sustainable, and that the rest Hannibal was beginning to feel was fabricated by his own desperate mind. But he didn't have to worry. Walking into Will's house, as a follow-up to Hannibal's earlier words back in the opera bathroom, felt like coming home. The fact that it may be presumptuous of Hannibal to think that way didn't dampen the feeling.

 

Will helped Hannibal out of his coat and while Will hung their coats in the closet, Hannibal was bombarded by Winston and Buster who both sniffed his hand and nudged him eagerly. Hannibal bent down slightly to pat the dogs' heads and groaned as he felt a worsening ache at the base of his spine.

 

The weight of Will's hand on the small of his back was warm and welcome and even when Hannibal stood up he didn't move away. "They remember you," Will said, sounding genuinely happy by that fact. Hannibal felt like he had received approval from important family members. With his hand still on Hannibal's back, Will circled to Hannibal's front for their eyes to meet. "Shall I get us some wine?"

 

"I don't think I'm up to more this evening," Hannibal warned, tense in Will's embrace.

 

"Although I enjoyed your body fully," Will hummed, "for now I would wish only to share wine and good conversation with you."

 

Hannibal breathed a quiet sigh of relief and nodded. "I as well."

 

Winston and Buster trotted between their feet as Will and Hannibal walked into the kitchen. Will gave him a considering look and then nudged Hannibal into the wine cellar attached to the main kitchen, tasked with picking a bottle of wine while Will fed the dogs. Afterwards Will uncorked the bottle and they both sipped their wine as they walked through the house into a cozy study and library mix.

 

It all felt so comfortable and easy that Hannibal silently gave himself permission to let go of his fears and see how this went. He didn't know what to say to prompt conversation but he didn't feel uncomfortable, and it felt natural when Will asked Hannibal his thoughts on the opera they had watched and Hannibal launched into a detailed and passionate analysis. The best part was that Will not only acted interested, but actively kept up with the discussion.

 

When the topic was exhausted they fell back into an easy lull. Will excused himself to retrieve the bottle of wine and also let the dogs out into the backyard for a brief jog before settling for the evening. Hannibal was left alone to gaze into the fire Will had struck for them in the fireplace, thoughts calm and slow.

 

He knew that his eyes were drooping, his body still lethargic after the best intercourse of his life, but Hannibal didn't realize quite how exhausted he was until Will was shaking him awake. "Perhaps another glass of wine wouldn't be the smartest idea," Will said as he gently took Hannibal's empty glass from his loose grasp.

 

Hannibal rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake himself up. "I'm afraid I'm not ideal company at the moment."

 

Even though Hannibal had told himself that he was too tired to properly read Will effectively, the only word that came to mind for Will's current expression was adoration. "Let's go to bed," Will suggested, voice soft.

 

Will directed Hannibal to the shower when he asked, and Hannibal spent time cleaning his body beneath the burning spray. As much as his body thrummed with echoing arousal from memories of the opera theatre and their tryst, Hannibal was grateful for the few minutes to himself. He stepped into the pyjama bottoms left for him, brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush and toothpaste Will had pointed out, and then entered Will's bedroom with too much exhaustion to be shy.

 

Will was sitting up in bed against a mountain of pillows, knees up to cradle a book Will was reading. The cover was hidden by the blankets but Will seemed invested in the words on the page. He looked up when Hannibal entered and smiled before turning back to his book, taking away any sense of obligation or pressure. Will had already informed Hannibal about the available guest bedroom down the hall if he preferred to sleep there.

 

After everything they had shared that evening, it wasn't a difficult decision for Hannibal to slip below the covers. He moved towards the centre of the bed and melted when Will silently lifted an arm to wrap it around Hannibal's shoulders while his head rested on Will's shoulder. "I'm almost done this chapter," Will said as he drew absent-minded circles on Hannibal's upper arm.

 

The shower had woken him up somewhat and Hannibal gazed over at the pages of text. "What are you reading?"

 

"A book about some of the hiking trails around Baltimore and the surrounding area," Will explained. "I've managed to discover a few in my year here but I'm sure there are many more that I've missed. It talks about the wildlife you can expect to run into as well, where you can camp and so on."

 

"You enjoy the outdoors."

 

"I do," Will smiled down at him. "My father taught me to live off the land. Cities have always felt somewhat shallow compared to where I grew up. More complex, maybe, but I prefer grass beneath my feet and the sound of water rushing by rather than concrete and the din of traffic."

 

"You said you grew up in Louisiana?" Hannibal pried. "Where, specifically?"

 

Will's finger didn't stop tracing circles but Will did bookmark his page and set the book aside to give Hannibal his full attention. "Many places, though along the coast was always my favourite."

 

"Was that where you lived when..." Hannibal paused but then pushed on. "When you killed that man?"

 

Will didn't seem bothered by Hannibal bringing up the subject. "Not directly on the coast, but our tiny house was built along an inlet." After a moment of silence, Will added. "If you have other questions, you can ask them."

 

Hannibal took a deep breath. "How did you feel, after you killed him?"

 

Their eyes met and held, and Will let Hannibal see the answer in his eyes as the memory played behind them. "Righteous and powerful." It was a serious answer, which Hannibal appreciated. Though he hadn't been expecting his body to thrum with desire at Will's response the way it was. Will could tell, somehow. "Did you feel the same after you killed those two men?" Will asked carefully.

 

Hannibal nodded; he had already admitted that killing those men had felt good. What was one more nail in the coffin? "Yes."

 

"Would you do it again?" Will's eyes were boring into his own and Hannibal looked away, body tense. If he wasn't careful he was going to get himself thrown in jail. And turn Will's understanding look to one of disgust. Hannibal wasn't sure he could bear that. Will kissed the shell of his ear and whispered, "All I ask is your trust and I will gladly give you mine in return." Hannibal was surprised that it sounded a bit like a plea. He closed his eyes and nodded again, pulse pounding in his ears like an angry surf crashing repeatedly against rocks on a coast. He held his breath until those lips kissed his ear again, and then his jaw. "I would too."

 

Hannibal's eyes flashed open as he looked over at Will, shocked by the admission. Worse was the fact that instead of being scared or thinking about calling the police, Hannibal only felt relief and a deepening kinship. He knew Will was being honest with him – there would be no value to lying about this. And to know that Will was not only going to remain by his side, but shared similar thoughts, felt to Hannibal like he had found solid footing for the first time in his life.

 

Hannibal didn't ask Will if he had acted on these urges because he knew he wasn't ready to hear the answer, one way or the other. But Hannibal's relief made him eager to share, to receive validation and support for the truths that had weighed him down for so many years. "When I stand over a crime scene I often imagine that I was the one to put it there. I haven't—" he rushed to add, still hesitant, but was soothed by Will's fingers moving through his hair.

 

"I would like to take you hunting tomorrow," Will told him, expression as calm as ever. When he saw Hannibal's confused look, Will elaborated. "We are right at the end of deer hunting season. You are not the only one with those thoughts and I think you will find hunting therapeutic."

 

"I thought about it all week, you know," Hannibal said. "Your question about what society had done to earn my loyalty." Hannibal pursed his lips. "I couldn't think of anything. But the idea is still ingrained that killing is wrong."

 

"Everyone's answer regarding the good or evilness of killing is fickle, manipulated by circumstance and motive," Will mused like they were discussing the weather. Hannibal listened intently. "Is it wrong to kill to protect yourself or to protect the ones you love? Many don't know how to answer that. But what about revenge, which can also be driven by love?"

 

Hannibal turned to press his face more fully into the crook of Will's arm. He felt immensely guilty for how easy it was to imagine Will standing over a body slain for him, and how pleased it made Hannibal.

 

Will continued, unprompted. "The same questions arise with hunting. If you hunt outside of the designated hunting seasons and throw out the remains it is a cruel waste. But what about when the carcass is left for wild animals to eat, or taken home to cook?" Will was watching him but not demanding any answers. He only wanted Hannibal to think critically about how malleable viewpoints could be. "During hunting seasons it is important for hunters to kill in order to help avoid overpopulation and starvation of certain species."

 

"Most people would say it is not up to us to decide what situations for killing, if any, are justified," Hannibal hedged.

 

Will looked slightly disappointed by his answer and Hannibal felt his throat close at the sight. "You and I are not most people, Hannibal."

 

The more Hannibal thought about it, the clearer the mental image became of Will awash in blood. He felt conflicted, fearing that the taint inside him would poison Will if he got too close. And yet Hannibal was too selfish to let him go. He wanted to keep imagining Will as an echo of the monster Hannibal felt inside himself, comforted by the idea of a mate and equal.

 

Hannibal licked his lips, envisioning what it would be like to watch Will hunt. In the past he had already considered the image of Will fishing, but the idea of Will pursuing a skittish, moving beast was very different. Hannibal had disappointed Will with his previous comment; he would choose his words more carefully this time. He wanted to please and impress. "If we caught a deer, I could prepare the meat for us for dinner."

 

The tight seal of Will's lips over his own assured Hannibal that he had said the right thing. He sunk willingly into the pillows with Will bearing down on him and accepted the kiss. It didn't last long but it didn't need to; the kiss was very clear, non-verbal approval.

 

#

 

Waking up with a warm body curled up against him was a new experience but a pleasant one. The only other time it had recently happened was when he and Will had shared the motel bed but this was different. In the motel Will had been alert and out of bed almost instantly, shooing Jack and giving Hannibal some more time to lounge in bed and rest. Now in the comfort and safety of Will's own house, his limbs entangled with Hannibal's own, it took Will a lot longer to wake from his dozy state.

 

They were both safe here, alone together and tucked away from the world. There was no one to judge them except each other, and the previous night's conversation made it clear that they had a lot more in common than just a desire for intelligent conversation. Hannibal didn't know how far this would go and still told himself to be hesitant. But he was looking forward to the catharsis Will seemed to think hunting might bring him on top of simply watching Will at work.

 

Hannibal was fully awake long before Will left his own sleepy haze but he stayed sprawled in bed, shivering at the lazily possessive way Will mouthed across the planes of his bare back. At some point Will nosed Hannibal's hair and half lay on top of him, releasing a contented sigh. Will was almost animalistic in the way he nuzzled at Hannibal's skin and draped himself over Hannibal's body, and it made Hannibal smile fondly. He allowed himself to think that no one else had ever seen Will like this; that this was something solely for Hannibal after their intimate conversation the night before.

 

The only thing strong enough to rouse Will fully and drag him away from the bed was the need to urinate, and Hannibal used the opportunity to use the guest bathroom to freshen up. When he was done he heard Will's shower running and Hannibal headed downstairs after grabbing a red long-sleeve sweater that had been left for him on the foot of the bed. He was thankful for the wool against his skin since the downstairs was still chilly. Hannibal pulled some ingredients from the fridge and began to work on breakfast.

 

By the time Will emerged, the pancakes were stacked in a heap on a warm plate in the oven and the bacon was nearly fried. Winston and Buster had woken and clamoured out of their dog beds and were nosing at Will's feet, who ignored them and leaned heavily against Hannibal's back. "You're not a morning person, are you?"

 

"Only when I need to be," Will mumbled against Hannibal's borrowed sweater. "There's no danger now."

 

Hannibal left Will where he was until the food was finished. Then Will got nudged away to pour them drinks while Hannibal dished out their food onto two plates. Will fed the dogs as well and then they sat down at the dining room table together to eat. The food was enough to wake Will fully and near the end of their meal Will was detailing his plans for their day of hunting. Will had some spare clothes Hannibal could borrow as well as a pair of hiking boots that looked like they had just been bought a few days prior.

 

Winston and Buster were left at home, Will explaining that he only brought them along if he didn't care about not catching anything. It was a little over thirty minutes on the highway and back roads before Will was parking his car in a gravel parking lot built alongside a thick forest broken up by one wide walking path disappearing among the brush. "The walking path will get us far enough away from the road before we can leave the path," Will said as he got out of the car and popped the trunk.

 

Hannibal followed and accepted the orange fabric vest Will handed him, mimicking as Will tugged on his own. "Don't I need a hunting license to do this?"

 

"You do," Will agreed and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket to give Hannibal. When he looked it over, Hannibal saw that it was a hunting license with his name on it. If it was a fake, Hannibal couldn't tell. He sent Will a questioning look. "I've been thinking about bringing you out hunting since one of our first conversations," Will explained. "I pulled a few strings and got that made for you just in case."

 

After Hannibal confirmed that he had been taught how to handle and use multiple firearms during his police and FBI training, Will pressed a hunting rifle into his hand and gave Hannibal a few minutes to adjust to the weight of it. He gave a few tips, along with some general safety rules, and Hannibal listened closely. Once Will deemed them both ready, he slung a bag over his shoulder, locked the car, and together they walked along the path into the forest each with a hunting rifle resting on one shoulder.

 

Will walked them another fifteen minutes into the forest before he was satisfied with their distance from the road and then veered them off to the left and into the brush. Hannibal was tasked with using a piece of white chalk against trees they passed so that they could retrace their steps. Just watching Will move through the forest made Hannibal silently certain that Will could find his way back easily without any chalk but he kept the belief to himself.

 

There was no more talking between them. Only the sound of leaves and twigs crunching underfoot, bare branches tapping together, and the occasional bird song kept them company. It was easy for Hannibal to pretend that there was no one else in the world but them, and it was a wonderful feeling. They came to a standstill when Will's eye caught something, and through scattered leaves Will was able to pick out deer tracks grooved into the cold dirt.

 

Will pulled out a box of ammunition and handed Hannibal enough rounds to fill his gun, loading his own in turn before standing up. More cautious now of where they walked, Will and Hannibal picked their way between the noisy underbrush in pursuit of the freshly-laid tracks. Hannibal was straining all of his senses but it was Will who spotted the deer first and put a silent hand on Hannibal's chest to still him. Will pointed and after a moment Hannibal could make out the tan fur of a buck nibbling on some grass that had survived the recent frost.

 

"He's yours," Will whispered in Hannibal's ear, voice so quiet he could barely be heard over Hannibal's own internal voice asking if he was really going to do this.

 

The deer was innocent and didn't stand a chance. It wasn't two men who had brutally slain an entire defenceless family for sick enjoyment and nothing more. All of the words Will had said the night before collided in his mind, tearing him in different directions. There was no justice here. Yet Will had mentioned the importance of avoiding overpopulation. Hannibal raised the barrel of his gun but it wavered visibly. "Will, I can't."

 

"Can't, or won't?"

 

" _Won't_ ," Hannibal whispered harshly. His eyes never strayed from his prey but his gun's barrel sank lower towards the ground.

 

"Explain."

 

Hannibal closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "He doesn't deserve it."

 

"So you'll leave him alive to starve when there are too many of them," Will said evenly.

 

Hannibal sent him a dark look. "You're manipulating me." Will didn't flinch at the look; merely watched Hannibal closely. Hannibal dropped his rifle into rest position and looked away. He felt like he had failed an important test and it was a sickening weight on his shoulders and in the pit of his stomach.

 

There was a soft rustle of fabric and Hannibal recoiled, fearing a physical hit. Instead he heard a rock being thrown and its resulting clatter against the ground a short distance away. There was a startled snort from the buck and the thud of fleeing hooves that were not pursued. Hannibal opened his eyes in time to watch Will sling both his bag and rifle over his shoulder, face made of stone. "It was a mistake to bring you out here," Will said stiffly. "Come on, I'll take you home."

 

"Will—" Hannibal croaked out but Will waved him off and Hannibal didn't know what to say anyway.

 

The silence surrounding them on their walk back through the trees was oppressive rather than comfortable. They weren't following the chalked path and Hannibal's stomach was twisted into uneven knots but he said nothing. Will's pace was quick and sure like he was a creature of the forest rather than the city, naturally adept at avoiding hidden tree roots and brambles. Twice Hannibal tripped and the second time his ankle throbbed when he rolled over on it but Hannibal bit his tongue and remained silent. He refused to appear any weaker in front of Will than he already felt.

 

A pained groan among a shift of leaves had Will freezing mid-step, Hannibal barely stopping himself in time to avoid crashing into him. Will wasn't paying him any attention, instead tilting his head for some audible cue. With no explanation for Hannibal, Will took off through the trees in a different direction and Hannibal stumbled after him. A few seconds later they came across a buck – different from the one Hannibal had pointed a gun at judging by its smaller antlers. The deer was sprawled on the ground, one leg bent at an awkward angle and obviously broken. The grunt the buck gave them as they approached was weak rather than threatening.

 

Hannibal read Will's intent before his rifle was even fully raised. "Will."

 

Will's rifle wavered, aimed at the ground, but he didn't look back at Hannibal. "It's suffering, Hannibal. A quick death will be better than what's ahead of him."

 

"I know," Hannibal swallowed. "I'll do it."

 

At last Will lowered his gun and finally, _finally_ looked at Hannibal. His face was still unreadable, purposefully blank, but he nodded. "Alright."

 

Will stepped aside and Hannibal took his place, standing over the whimpering buck. For a long moment he stared at the buck, seeing the fear and pain in its wide eyes. Hannibal considered the deer's leg again, assessing for certain that it would starve or be attacked by some other predator if left here alive. It was easier this time for Hannibal to raise his rifle and the barrel's aim was steady. He cocked his gun, mouthed a silent apology, and pulled the trigger.

 

The shot rang in his ears long seconds after his body had recovered from the recoil of the gun against his shoulder. The gore of the bullet wound and the deer's blood seeping into the dirt below its dead body should've disgusted Hannibal, knowing that he had caused it. But all Hannibal felt was jittery adrenaline, turning his breaths shaky in the quiet forest. He looked upon the blood and gore with the professional eye trained from studying hundreds of dead bodies. He looked into the dead, glassy eyes with a sense of pride that he had saved a creature from suffering.

 

"We'll need to harvest the meat here and leave the carcass behind. I'm not equipped at home to use all the parts right now and it'll feed other animals in the forest after we're gone," Will said as he set down his gun and bag and knelt in front of the deer. "You don't have to watch."

 

Without a word Hannibal knelt beside Will. He didn't take the knife from Will's hand but he watched Will work and handed over supplies as needed to get the slices of meat bagged and sealed until they got home. It was mesmerizing watching Will's hands move so expertly, proof of the years of hunting instilled in Will from his father's teachings in youth. Hannibal wondered how much of it was Will's enjoyment versus the desire to hold onto something of his father, but he didn't ask in that moment.

 

When Will was satisfied with the meat he had collected from the carcass, he pulled off his bloody gloves and shoved them and the knife into a separate bag to be cleaned later. Hannibal's eyes stayed on the buck while Will was busy packing everything up. He skimmed his fingers through soft fur and finally stood when Will beckoned him with hushed words. Hannibal walked to Will's side but couldn't look away from his kill.

 

"How do you feel?" Will asked quietly.

 

"Like I did the right thing."

 

Will nodded. "Are you ready to leave?"

 

Hannibal remained standing, not answering at first. He lost track of the seconds that passed until he finally answered yes and walked away a few paces behind Will. Hannibal kept glancing back to look at the deer until it was out of sight, and then for the rest of the walk back to the car he rubbed the pads of his fingers together, remembering the texture of the buck's hide against his touch.


	11. Chapter 11

Will drove them back in silence. Once Hannibal attempted to start a conversation but Will didn't reciprocate and Hannibal didn't try a second time. It was rude, Will knew. But he was too wrapped up in his own head to find the energy to display any mask. There would be no false smiles of reassurance, nor frowns of disapproval. What scared people most was when someone gave no indication of their thoughts and emotions at all. Steadfast calm in the place of expected volatile reactions left people uneasy, and Will could see the way it had Hannibal shifting in the passenger seat.

 

He couldn't believe he had been so wrong. Will had been too desperate, too hopeful that he would find himself in Hannibal that he had projected what he wanted to see. The shadows in Hannibal's eyes had merely been a reflection of Will's own self, distorted just enough by Hannibal's gaze that Will could pretend it was unique from himself. But he had found otherwise today as he watched Hannibal drop his aim away from an easy kill. How Will's heart had sunk with disappointment when Hannibal had refused to do what Will had thought Hannibal had been yearning to try.

 

Will felt foolish and had no one to blame but himself. What was the point of everything he had done over the last year, now that he knew Hannibal would never be the mate he had envisioned? Establishing himself as a working member of the Baltimore community, fostering relations with the FBI, getting Hannibal as a patient only to manipulate those sessions into stages for discourse that helped Will become the center of Hannibal's world and moral compass. Not to mention the shared moments of friendship and heated moments of passion.

 

Will had enjoyed every second with Hannibal he had been granted, and now it would be wasted. He had been letting Hannibal get closer and closer, offering up increasingly larger grains of truth about his nature with the certainty that eventually Hannibal would hold enough grains in his hand to see the full picture. Will had done this with the belief that by the time Hannibal truly saw him, Hannibal would have already come to see the truth of himself as well.

 

However, Will had miscalculated and he had put himself in a precarious position. Even if he stopped offering new grains, with enough time Hannibal would still come to the realization eventually. Will would need to decide now how long he would stay and steal as many memories of Hannibal that he could before he had to pick up and move on, leave this dreamland he had been inhabiting behind. Because Hannibal wasn't him, and even if he understood Will, Hannibal would be incapable of accepting him.

 

Will parked outside of Hannibal's apartment building but Hannibal didn't unclip his seatbelt. He looked at Will with a sad anger that hinted at an underlying frustration from not knowing how to mend something unintentionally broken. "I promised to make us dinner," Hannibal said tightly. "Have I lost even your friendship?"

 

Will opened his mouth but wasn't sure what to say to that, so he closed his mouth again and drove away from the curb. It wasn't far to Will's house and the traffic was good. In the grand scheme of things they had barely been gone a few hours and yet it felt like everything had shifted out of alignment. Will grabbed the cooler of meat from the trunk and handed it to Hannibal to carry to the front door, collecting everything else in his arms to bring in himself and clean later.

 

Only as he passed over the threshold and into the house behind Hannibal did Will notice Hannibal's slight limp. The urge to protect overrode Will's disappointment and he set down his armful immediately to take the meat cooler from Hannibal's hands. "Go sit in the study and get your leg elevated," he told Hannibal, and nudged him in the right direction when it looked like Hannibal was going to protest.

 

Will set the bags of meat in the fridge where they would keep and then washed his hands and collected his first-aid kit, an ice pack and a towel. Hannibal was sitting stiffly in one of the armchairs, his right foot up on a footrest. Their eyes snagged as Will entered the room but neither of them said anything. Will dragged the coffee table closer so he could set everything on it and then gently lifted Hannibal's right foot, sitting on the footrest himself and settling Hannibal's foot in his lap.

 

Hannibal was watching him while Will rolled up Hannibal's pant leg halfway up his shin and then peeled his sock off. It was immediately obvious that Hannibal's ankle had been sprained when Will saw the swelling and bruising, and felt Hannibal's leg twitch when Will tentatively brushed his fingers over tender flesh. "When did this happen?" he asked as he plucked a compression wrap from the first-aid kit and began to bandage Hannibal's ankle and foot.

 

"After the first deer when we were walking through the woods," Hannibal said. "I was trying to match your pace."

 

Will grimaced at the guilt that struck him like an arrow, burrowing deep. "You should've told me."

 

"Why?"

 

Will looked up and saw the hurt and betrayal in Hannibal's eyes. In Will's disappointment he had rejected Hannibal's actions and reasoning. Will sighed and leaned over Hannibal's foot in his lap, resting his forehead against Hannibal's shin. "Because I care." The words were heavy, seeped with meaning.

 

They remained like that, bundled in a tableau of silence while Will caressed a thumb across Hannibal's leg in slow intervals. "I wish I had killed that first deer," Hannibal whispered at some point.

 

Will's stomach clenched. "Why?"

 

"For you."

 

Will kissed Hannibal's skin in thanks even though the answer made him ache more. "I didn't want you to kill it for me," he explained. "I wanted you to kill it for yourself. I thought it would give you a sense of release. Instead I caused you undue stress."

 

"I'm not as fragile as you paint me," Hannibal chided him and Will looked up. "And there was a lot I felt after killing that second deer that I'm still trying to adequately express in words."

 

Even if Hannibal hadn't figured out how to explain it verbally yet, Will saw it in his eyes. What he had been too blind to see through his initial disappointment. A heat and a hunger had been sparked there. Will had seen Hannibal tremble after his gun recoiled and had been aware of Hannibal watching Will's hands cut through flesh, but he had assumed it was horror and disgust that had rocked Hannibal's body. It was clear now that it hadn't been that at all; or at least, not after the initial shock wore off.

 

Hannibal was like Will in ways, and different in others. The power of wielding death and having the final say in whether a creature lived or died had seeped into Hannibal's veins long ago when he enacted vengeance on his family's killers; and was newly awakened. But that was the tipping point, and where Will would need to be most careful. Will could take a life as long as he saw value in the action – whether it was the use of the remaining body physically for food or materials, or through sending messages or manipulating favourable changes in those he kept close.

 

Hannibal had a different and stricter set of criteria that had to be met. The only creatures he would strike down would be the ones who deserved it, whose deaths would benefit the world with their absence. Criminals and abusive people that slipped through the scrambling grasp of the legal system, who would run rampant until they were put down. Or, in the case of the deer, those better off killed than left suffering needlessly. Hannibal needed genuine justification so that the power and pride he felt with killing would be something to relish rather than regret.

 

All hope was not lost. Will could make this work. Long ago he had strayed from his father's teachings of honouring every kill, deciding for himself when to twist that lesson into one that suited his needs. He would leave a body wasted if it stirred the reactions from society that he wanted, or if it provided convenience in time-sensitive moments without increasing his risk of getting caught.

 

Will had felt no qualms about these changes, seeing them as necessary and positive adaptations that aided in his evolution. And it proved that his morals and motives were malleable, reshaped to suit his intentions. He could adapt again, adjust to match Hannibal's set of criteria. Hannibal was incentive enough.

 

"I didn't think you'd look at me like that again."

 

Will had been staring, perhaps displaying too much of his inner thought process through his gaze. The side of himself he might still one day be able to show to Hannibal and share with him. "A moment of temporary madness in the woods," he joked, smiling as he bent forward again to brush his lips against Hannibal's leg, feeling short hairs tickle his skin.

 

"I disappointed you out there," Hannibal stated. "I don't entirely know what you were testing, but I failed."

 

Will shook his head and sat back on the footrest, his thumb smoothing circles across the top of Hannibal's foot. "You only made me realize that there's more than one answer to every question. My viewpoint had become narrowed lately, and I value the broadening of my perspective."

 

Hannibal frowned in thought. "Did you want it to change me?"

 

"Everything I cherish is already inside you," Will said honestly. It wasn't about changing Hannibal. It was about helping him accept another part of himself that society had told him to shun and lock away.

 

He felt Hannibal shiver with Hannibal's foot in his lap and leg supported by Will's own. Hannibal licked his lips and watched Will track the movement. "Will we go hunting again?"

 

"Would you like to?"

 

"I fear I won't meet your expectations," Hannibal sounded resigned.

 

"That's not what I asked," Will chuckled.

 

Hannibal released a tiny sigh. "Yes, I think I would like to."

 

Will grinned but tried to keep it from appearing too triumphant. "Deer hunting season is mostly over but we will go hunting again. I'll find a better venue for you to enjoy. For now I should get everything cleaned and stored away."

 

"Will," Hannibal said when Will began to move Hannibal's foot out of his lap in order to stand. Will set Hannibal's injured foot down gently but stood by the chair, waiting for Hannibal to continue. "I appreciate you sharing your hunting with me today."

 

Will sat on the arm of Hannibal's armchair and stroked his knuckles over Hannibal's cheek. Hannibal didn't fully understand the significance of today yet, or how much of Will's nature had been hinted at, but he recognized that Will's hunting was important to him, and that Hannibal being invited along was a rare privilege. "It was my pleasure to have you join me."

 

When he stood again, Hannibal made the move to join him. Will stilled him with a hand on his shoulder, holding him back against the chair. "I promised to make us dinner," Hannibal reminded him with a blend of amusement and exasperation in his voice. "I can't do that from here."

 

"No," Will agreed. "But we are in no rush. Keep the ice on for another fifteen minutes. By then I'll have everything cleaned and put away and we'll consider preparing the meat."

 

Hannibal let him go and Will made quick work of getting the guns and knife cleaned up. He had already removed all of the ammo from the guns prior to them driving away from the forest and after wiping down the guns, he set everything back into the gun safe he kept in the storage room he had at the back of his house. The knife he cleaned with more care, ensuring that it was spotless before he stored it away. Will could've done all of this in front of Hannibal but decided that allowing Hannibal to watch him carve the deer with one of Will's hunting knives had been brazen enough. He might as well paint ' _Louisiana Lure_ ' on his forehead if he took anymore obvious risks.

 

When Will returned to the study he found Hannibal's eyes half-lidded and unfocused, conscious but with far-away thoughts. Will wondered if Hannibal was reliving his kill of the deer or if he was replaying what he had seen of Will today, finding a few more pieces of the puzzle that slotted into place. Their position was a precarious one, but Will had already prepared an emergency bag in case he needed to leave in a hurry. Until that became his only option, he would tread carefully but remain close.

 

Hannibal stared at the wall and Will stared at Hannibal, enjoying the view and the way it seemed like Hannibal occasionally forgot to blink when he was focused on a particular thought or idea. Will wanted to grab the half-finished lure he had set away in one of the room's cupboards and continue working on it but reminded himself to not get greedy with the deepening understanding between himself and Hannibal. He also considered getting a book to read from the wall of bookshelves but before he could decide which one he wanted to read, Hannibal turned to watch him in return.

 

"This cannot be how you imagined your afternoon," Hannibal said at some point.

 

"And if I said it was?" Will raised an eyebrow. Hannibal pursed his lips and looked away, but Will caught the slight twitch of Hannibal's lips that he tried to hide. "How did you picture today going?"

 

"I wasn't sure what to envision, after yesterday," Hannibal sent him a sideways look that had Will rubbing at his face in an attempt to hide his smug smile. "I can't say I'm upset with how the day has progressed thus far."

 

"Then let us enjoy it a while longer," Will let his smile show. "Are you able to stand? If not I could bring everything in here to work on dinner."

 

"We are not preparing venison in your study," Hannibal sighed as if trying to explain a simple concept in a foreign language. Hannibal stood from his armchair smoothly, though he was hesitant when he settled his weight on his injured foot. Will caught the wince Hannibal tried to hide and stood as well, offering an arm without words. "Such a gentleman," Hannibal considered his arm before taking it.

 

"Only when I want to be," Will said and led them into the kitchen.

 

He set away the ice pack in the freezer to cool down again and then got everything Hannibal asked him for. They decided to make roasted vegetables on the side to go with the venison but that would take much less time to cook and would be prepared closer to the time they would eat. Hannibal was able to rest his weight against the counter while he prepared the sauce and cut the meat to place it in the dish to marinate.

 

Hannibal told Will the French name for the sauce and the meal he was planning for them but Will was busy watching Hannibal's hands work. How lovely it would be to teach Hannibal how to carve flesh from bone, and help him see that the meat of animals was not so different from that of humans. How enjoyable it would be to discuss new ways to prepare, spice and present the meat of their kills to share at the table.

 

"Will?"

 

Will blinked and looked up from Hannibal's hands. "Yes?"

 

"What are you thinking about?"

 

"Hunting and cooking with you."

 

"You're thinking about exactly what we have done, and are doing, today?" Hannibal asked. "With such a fond look."

 

Will didn't see any fear or suspicion in Hannibal's eyes. "I'm thinking about doing it over and over."

 

Hannibal glanced down and away but in the light spilling from the kitchen windows it was easy to see the tint of pink high on Hannibal's cheeks. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared but Will made sure to memorize the sight. "I would not be opposed," Hannibal said quietly.

 

The meat would take an hour to prepare – thirty minutes on each side to marinate. Then Hannibal said that it would take nearly another hour for it to cook in the oven alongside the roasted carrots and parsnips Will had set aside in one corner of his fridge. Will grabbed a different ice pack from the freezer and walked with Hannibal back into the sitting room, wrapping the ice pack up in a towel before putting it on Hannibal's ankle.

 

Words came easily to them when they were both seated, afternoon sun sinking towards the horizon through the wide windows. It was like when they were in Will's office but different. They wouldn't pretend now that any conversation between them was forced by the professional setting, or that their purpose was therapy. This was a conversation of philosophy, belief and passion between two people who valued one another's opinion and craved the other's attention and company.

 

They got so caught up in their discussions that they nearly forgot to pause long enough to flip the meat in the sauce for marinating and, when it was time to prepare the vegetables and the meat to slip into the pre-heated oven, took their conversation with them. Will set the timer and they returned to the study but this time when Hannibal returned to his armchair, Will dragged his own closer and pulled Hannibal's right foot into his lap.

 

"Will," Hannibal began like he was considering protesting, but didn't expand on his objection when Will ran a warm palm along the top of his foot.

 

He peeled off Hannibal's sock and started a careful, gentle massage. Hannibal's foot and leg were stiff from the ice packs and from the pain of the sprain but Will worked warmth back into him with palms and fingers. Even though Hannibal tensed the first few times Will's fingers moved over his ankle he didn't withdraw, trusting Will to not cause further pain or injury. It wasn't long before Hannibal relaxed in his chair, eyes barely held open to watch Will work while quiet, pleased groans rumbled occasionally in his chest and throat.

 

Will massaged both of Hannibal's feet and ankles but focused on his injured one. He still felt a little guilty that his behaviour had caused harm to come to Hannibal. Although he did consider moving closer and licking at the marks he had left on Hannibal's skin the previous evening at the opera, Will refrained. This wasn't about sex; this was an apology and a show of concern. Hannibal didn't draw him closer but he didn't shake Will off either, accepting the apology willingly.

 

The timer in the kitchen drew them away, both of them washing their hands at the kitchen sink before pulling the two steaming dishes out of the oven. Will left Hannibal to divvy up the food onto two plates and stepped into the wine cellar to pick out one of his favourite red wines, which he uncorked and poured into two glasses for them to share. His choice was not a thoughtless one, and Will found himself shifting in his chair at the dining room table each time he watched Hannibal lick blood red wine from his lips after a precise sip.

 

The meal was divine, and Will informed Hannibal of this more than once. Hannibal deflected some of the compliments politely and accepted the others, clearly pleased with his work and the appreciation it was being shown. Will told Hannibal that he was welcome over to cook on absolutely any occasion and though they both laughed, Hannibal promised that he wouldn't forget the invitation.

 

After the delicious food Will felt relaxed but Hannibal looked downright dozy. Will offered for Hannibal to spend the night and Hannibal considered it, but Will already knew the answer before it was given to him. "I appreciate the offer, but I am in danger of falling asleep and I feel an early night at home would be beneficial."

 

Will didn't argue. He understood that this was a desire they both shared, to enjoy time to themselves. It didn't matter that their connection and comfort with one another strengthened by the day; it could still be weary work to constantly entertain and reciprocate in extended social settings. So Will washed the plates while Hannibal dried, helped Hannibal into his coat, and drove him home. He walked Hannibal into his building and up to his apartment door, mentally noting the apartment number as he pressed Hannibal's body against the door while returning Hannibal's kiss.

 

During the drive home and once he had returned to his study and pulled out his lure to continue work, Will's mind churned with focused contemplation. Without meaning to, Hannibal had shown Will today what he would and would not kill for and, most importantly, that he _would_ kill. They were different but not terribly so. Will had not been wrong when he recognized the shadows in Hannibal's eyes; those shadows merely hungered for different game. And Will was determined to help Hannibal feed those urges.

 

He had a plan.

 

#

 

"What is this?" Will asked as he looked over the box Hannibal had pressed into his hands. Hannibal remained silent as he returned to the office door to hang up his coat and then took his seat across from Will. Though it was clear that Hannibal was still favouring his injured ankle, his gait was returning to its smooth rhythm as the sprain healed. The box was gift-wrapped beautifully and Will knew that it had to be a Christmas present, although Christmas had been on Wednesday and had passed rather uneventfully for Will.

 

Hannibal watched Will's fingers glide over the wrapping with practiced calm, hiding what was likely apprehension. "I received the suits you had delivered on Christmas day," Hannibal said as way of explanation.

 

"I hope you found them to your liking," Will said, looking from the box to Hannibal.

 

"I did," Hannibal inclined his head. "But you did not need to get me any gifts."

 

"I wanted to," Will confessed. His nails scraped curiously over the wrapping paper, wanting to claw it open and see what Hannibal had chosen for him. "Is this you reciprocating?"

 

Hannibal was watching Will's fingers move, not meeting his searching gaze. "Not exactly," Hannibal said. "I had considered getting you a Christmas gift for a while but was unsure of the appropriateness of the action. Plus I had only just come to realize what I wanted to get you."

 

"May I open it?"

 

Hannibal's expression remained hidden. "You may."

 

Will hooked his nails beneath tape and tore open his gift eagerly, unconcerned with showing how interested and excited he was at the possibilities. The wrapping paper fell away and with a light tug the lid of the box popped off. All at once Will felt something warm and powerful flutter newly-born wings deep inside his chest. His fingers skimmed with reverence over the beautifully-crafted handle of the hunting knife nestled inside the box.

 

It was a Randall Made hunting knife, the stainless steel blade a little over five inches in length. The knife had a single hilt of nickel silver and a beautiful stag handle, the material smooth and easy to grip but dark and textured like it had been cut from the bark of a beautiful, dark tree. When Will lifted the knife into his hand the weight was perfectly balanced, and it was as simple as breathing to twist it around in his grasp.

 

"Model 3, isn't it?" Will wondered aloud.

 

Hannibal looked surprised but pleased. "It is," he said. "Is it to your tastes?"

 

"Oh yes," Will purred, pressing his thumb lightly against the blade and relishing in the sting of his flesh splitting so easily. "It's lovely. I can't wait to use it." He sucked the blood from his thumb and caught the shifting of Hannibal's weight in his chair. "It seems you have a few ideas for its uses as well," he added thoughtfully. Hannibal glanced away, uncertain now. Perhaps he didn't yet understand why the sight of Will with a knife excited him. "Have you ever heard of knife play, Hannibal?"

 

Hannibal's brow furrowed with thought, his eyes still purposefully turned away. "Only in some detail."

 

"Do you trust me?" Will asked as he set the gift box aside but kept hold of the knife.

 

Hannibal watched, licked his lips and muttered, "Yes."

 

"Then stand."

 

With smooth movements they stood in sync, though Hannibal remained in place while Will approached. Will briefly slotted the knife into its sheath and hooked it onto the waistband of his pants before his fingers fount the knot of Hannibal's tie and yanked lightly. Hannibal bent for him, his Adam's apple bobbing against Will's knuckles as he unravelled Hannibal's tie and slid it from around his throat.

 

A warm hand on Hannibal's lower back was enough to steer him across the room, Will taking his time to avoid risking further injury to Hannibal's ankle. Hannibal sent Will a confused look when they stopped near the back of the room by the ladder that allowed someone to climb up to the half second story where more books and journals resided. It was a beautiful sight to watch understanding sharpen Hannibal's eyes when Will tapped a hand against the rungs of the ladder.

 

Without a word Hannibal turned fully towards the ladder and rested his palms against the rung just high enough that his hands were slightly above shoulder level. Then his sturdy fingers curled around the wood, gripping tight. "Say it again," Will ordered quietly as he lifted the broad fabric of Hannibal's tie and used it to create a blindfold over Hannibal's eyes.

 

"I trust you."

 

"Good," Will hummed. "This will require trust. You will not remove your hands from the ladder at any time until I say so; do you understand?"

 

"Yes."

 

Will nosed at the back of Hannibal's neck for a moment, breathing in his natural scent and the first hints of arousal blooming between them, and then unsheathed his knife again. As much as he wanted to undo both of their pants and bury himself inside Hannibal's willing body, Will would keep his clothes in place. The teasing would drive them both somewhat mad.

 

Will flipped the knife in his hand until the blunt edge of steel was against the back of Hannibal's neck. Hannibal flinched at the sensation of thin, cold metal against his skin and sagged almost as instinctively in relief when he realized that it was not the blade itself. Will removed the knife and kissed the red line from the force he had used, enthralled by how reactive Hannibal was to this already.

 

For a few minutes Will traced the blunt edge of the knife across the curve of Hannibal's shoulders, into the valleys of his shoulder blades, and down his back. Hannibal shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back but otherwise remained still, knowing enough that sudden movements could truly be dangerous with a hunting knife unsheathed. The only sign of Hannibal's restrained control was the way his fingers would grip tighter whenever Will pressed the weight of the knife against a sensitive area of his body. Will was particularly intrigued by how sensitive Hannibal was to any touch against his lowest ribs.

 

Although they were in no rush, as the minutes passed by Will became increasingly impatient to see and touch bare skin. Without any form of warning Will gripped the collar of Hannibal's shirt and pulled it back slightly, just enough for the fabric to press against Hannibal's throat. Hannibal didn't yield, taking the pressure without argument. It gave Will many other ideas to consider for future, though for now he could not be derailed from his current plan.

 

The sound of ripping thread against the blade of Will's new knife filled the office. He cut from collar to tail, the tip of his blade hovering only a bare inch above Hannibal's spine in every heavy second. Only when the shirt was fully cut in two did Hannibal release a shuddering breath, betraying that he had not breathed during the entire action. Will peeled back both edges of the shirt and pushed it forward until Hannibal's shirt hung from his upper arms, his shoulders and back exposed and vulnerable.

 

Will stood back and observed silently for a moment, and though Hannibal shifted his weight again, he said nothing either. Will flipped the knife again, and again, thrumming with arousal as he decided whether he wished to work with the blunt or sharp edge first. The best part was that Hannibal wouldn't know until the metal was already against his skin. Entirely at Will's mercy by choice – hands never bound except by a simple order that could be easily ignored.

 

Hannibal flinched at the first touch of metal to the base of his neck. His sigh was loud and wrecked when his mind informed him a second later that Will had again chosen the blunt edge. Will smoothed the inward curve of the knife around Hannibal's neck and over his shoulders, using just enough force that Hannibal was decorated with lines of red. Briefly Will held the blunt edge of the knife against Hannibal's throat with enough pressure that Hannibal had no choice but to bow his back. His moan was music to Will's ears when Will reached around with his free hand and squeezed Hannibal's erection through his pants.

 

He massaged Hannibal's cock just long enough to feel Hannibal's hips stutter forward and then he withdrew. Hannibal huffed a dissatisfied breath but otherwise remained silent. Will could see that Hannibal's knuckles had turned white with how tightly they were gripping the ladder's rung. Quietly he re-sheathed the knife and flipped it again. With a thumb Will felt out each knob of Hannibal's spine and then pushed the flat end of the knife's hilt against them, flattening Hannibal fully against the ladder with little groans of tortured desire.

 

Just when Will had nudged the last vertebrae he could reach above the waistline of Hannibal's pants and began to work back up, Hannibal leaned back into Will's working hands and whispered his name. Will's hands stilled but did not withdraw fully. "Do you want more?"

 

"Yes." Hannibal's voice was rough.

 

Well aware of his own swollen cock pressing against the zipper of his pants, Will knew that this could only last for so much longer. With quick fingers he undid Hannibal's pants and tugged them and his underwear down just enough to free his erection. Still, Will barely offered more than a light brush of fingers against Hannibal's straining erection before he returned his attention to Hannibal's back – a canvas left blank for his use.

 

With a steady, experienced hand Will carved a shallow line down Hannibal's spine. He started just below his neck where all collars would hide his work and only lifted the blade once he had reached Hannibal's tailbone. The cut was barely deeper than a nail could scrape, the skin an angry red but no blood welling up. He mirrored the line twice more on each side of the original, following the natural shape of Hannibal's body. By the time he was finished, Hannibal was panting.

 

"More."

 

Will didn't question him. He only pressed the blade against Hannibal's lowest rib and gave a practiced flick of his wrist. The tip of the knife cut a clean groove out of Hannibal's skin, who hissed and angled his crotch against the ladder as best he could for some form of friction. Blood pooled out of the small cut and trickled down to stain the waistband of Hannibal's pants. Will repeated the action against Hannibal's opposite rib and then continued upwards, drinking in each hitch of breath that escaped Hannibal at the sting of split skin.

 

It became more challenging to make clean and shallow cuts when Hannibal's hips began to rock more insistently. "Be still," Will growled at one point, not yet ready to stop his work but also unwilling to potentially scar Hannibal unintentionally. Hannibal's entire body shuddered before he fell still. Will cut a few more lines horizontally across Hannibal's back, checkering his skin. It would hurt Hannibal each time he had to stretch his arms or rest his back against something, but the cuts would heal and nothing should scar if given the proper care.

 

Will removed the blade from Hannibal's skin and leaned forward, reaching around Hannibal's body with both hands. One hand wrapped around Hannibal's throbbing cock while the other held the knife lightly over Hannibal's heart. It was almost sickening how easy it would be to slide the blade between ribs and pierce Hannibal's heart, but it was not a result Will would find satisfying. Nor would it please him nearly as much as it did to feel Hannibal immediately buck into Will's hand, seeking release desperately.

 

He squeezed and stroked Hannibal roughly, letting the dry friction of his hand make Hannibal squirm and ache. In the same rhythm as his hand, Will rutted his clothed cock against the swell of Hannibal's ass, finding the perfect angle and pressure to feel his muscles tensing. "Do you know how easy it would be to cut out your heart, Hannibal?" Will heard himself ask.

 

Hannibal swallowed loudly and pushed his chest against the weight of the blade. "Would you?"

 

Will pressed his forehead against the back of Hannibal's neck and shook his head. He held Hannibal pinned against him, caught between Will's body, the knife and his working hand. "Never," he vowed.

 

"Even if I asked?" Hannibal's words became stuttered and Will could feel the way Hannibal's rocking became unsteady and frantic. "What if I wanted you to cut into me?"

 

"Even then," Will answered before sinking his teeth into the skin and muscle of Hannibal's trapezius. It only partially muffled his ragged moan as he came in his underwear, his hips thrusting roughly against Hannibal's body. Will's body trembled with his release, each drag of his cock against the heat of Hannibal's ass setting more of his nerves on fire. One dip of his thumbnail into the slit of Hannibal's cock had Hannibal coming as well, both of them shaking together.

 

When they were both spent Will removed his teeth from Hannibal's skin and licked at the bruising mark in slight shame and apology. Next he bent down to lap up some of the blood painting Hannibal's back, swallowing down the metallic taste hungrily. Will hesitated only until he felt the breath leave Hannibal at the first brush of his tongue, Hannibal again pushing his crotch against the ladder tellingly. He pushed them both to the edge until they were forced to admit that they were too tired for another round immediately, and then Will grabbed a kit from the tiny washroom attached to the office to disinfect and clean Hannibal's wounds. Will refused to let infection steal Hannibal from him.

 

He tapped Hannibal's hands and then stepped back, waiting for Hannibal to turn before he carefully removed the blindfold. Hannibal blinked a few times and then his eyes looked Will over, which was when Will looked down as well and saw that Hannibal's blood from his back had stained patterns onto Will's white button-up shirt.

 

"Why would you not?" Hannibal asked.

 

Will licked his lips, still tasting Hannibal on his tongue. "Do you want me to?"

 

"I do not pine for death," Hannibal said. "But I remain curious. Clearly you have some deep desire to put a knife like that to proper use, and I suspect you also have the skill to wield it for whatever purpose you choose."

 

"I'm selfish, Hannibal," Will admitted. "I'm not terribly keen on the idea of this world without you in it." He flipped the knife in his grasp in a few rotations before forcing himself to stop. "I will cut you and make you bleed if you ask it of me, and I will enjoy it. But I will not let you slip from my fingers."

 

"I have no intention of letting that happen either," Hannibal said and held out a hand. "I think you will find that I can be just as selfish." This time it was Will who bent to Hannibal's will as he stepped forward and let Hannibal pull him even closer, not that Will minded. He felt a few lingering swells of arousal when Hannibal licked Will's hand clean of his come, and he met Hannibal's slow, lazy kiss. Will could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Randall Made Model 3 hunting knife](http://www.randallknives.com/knives/model-3-hunter/).


	12. Chapter 12

Will gave a polite 'hello' to the valet attendant, smiled charmingly at the front doorman, and greeted Deborah behind the coat check counter like familiar cousins. The older woman gave him a hug as she always did and then took his coat to hang in the back room, returning with the numbered tab so that he could collect his coat at the end of the opera.

 

"Would you be a dear and cover the counter for a moment?" Deborah asked him, eyes imploring. "We hired a new girl and I just need to show her a few things. It should only take a few minutes – you won't be late for the performance."

 

"Not a problem at all," Will assured her and waved her off with a kind smile. His smile remained in place, pleased at this convenient turn of events, and he turned back to the desk. With a confidence that would ensure no one dared question him, Will brought the computer on the counter out of sleep mode and scrolled quickly through the information available there. He knew from being an opera elite himself that all of those special patrons who used the boxes and joined the champagne parties at the end of shows were kept in records on the opera house's computers. There were always names and contact information so that the elite could be contacted when there were special promotions to offer, as well as photographs whenever they were submitted.

 

It didn't take more than twenty seconds for Will to scroll through the list and find his target: the man who had so rudely interrupted his coupling with Hannibal in the opera bathroom. Another eight seconds had the man's photo, name and contact information memorized in Will's mind. Five seconds more had Will scrolling back up to the top of the list where it had been before he touched it and leave the computer be, putting on a welcoming expression when another couple approached to have their coats hung up.

 

Deborah had always been friendly to Will so he was willing to complete her job for a few minutes to save her some undue stress. Especially considering how satisfied Will felt having gotten what he came for. He hung up a few more coats and handed off numbered tags and by the time Deborah returned to the front counter the computer's screen had gone back to sleep – though Will had had numerous lies prepared for execution had it not been.

 

She gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder and told him to hurry along lest he be late even though the lights would not dim for another seven minutes. Will bade her farewell and headed upstairs to the second foyer available for the patrons lingering before entering their private boxes. He made sure to mill through the crowd, greeting all that he knew, and making eye contact with even those he did not. He could tell immediately who of the elite he knew had been in attendance during his last visit since their gazes lingered.

 

Not that Will expected anything else. Hannibal would remain an unknown, but Will would find no anonymity after making Hannibal scream his name into the echoing marble of the bathroom. Will did not need to avoid recognition; all he needed was an alibi. So he indulged the knowing glances and chuckles from those who recognized him good-naturedly, and played the sheepish rich boy caught taking one too many liberties.

 

One man Will was less familiar with caught up to him as the group split up to head to their viewing boxes, whispering in Will's ear his curiosity about whether Will shared his trophies. Though Will laughed, it was a sharp and unfriendly sound and he assured the man that no, Will certainly had no intention of sharing. The man was already swimming with alcohol and merely gave a playful groan of disappointment before heading further down the hallway to his own box.

 

Will sat in his own box as the lights dimmed and the curtains rose for the first performer to take center stage. Once he was certain that everyone was focused on the opera and tucked safely in their seats, Will exited his box again quietly and headed for the back staircase that led directly outside. The winter's air hit him like a wall when Will stepped outside, chill clawing through his thin dress shirt greedily. Will ignored it and walked the two blocks away to where he had parked, pulling on the spare coat he had left in the back seat once he was in the car.

 

He didn't power up his car's GPS, knowing that it kept a history of inputted addresses. Instead Will pulled out a book of maps he kept in his glove compartment and rifled through the pages, his target's address repeating on a loop in his mind. _Derek Howards, 2953 Nickelsen Drive_. It was easy enough to find on the map and then Will was off, conscious of the time he had to work with. An opera performance would usually edge close to three hours in length, and although there would be an intermission halfway through, Will did not always leave his box during those times so no one would question not seeing him at that point.

 

Normally Will would complete more research than this prior to action but he already knew that Derek met his criteria. And truthfully, the man's job or family life meant very little to Will one way or the other and would certainly not stay his hand. Will parked on the street leading onto Derek's backyard and jumped the fence easily, making quick and quiet work of the lock on the man's back door. It was child's play to walk across the threshold and down the hall on silent feet, following the distant din of the television.

 

Derek was alone in the living room, curtains drawn, and didn't react fast enough to move before Will was upon him with his new Randall Made hunting knife against his neck. Derek swallowed his scream, causing his neck to bulge out and the blade to nick his skin. A droplet of blood trickled down his neck and soaked into the collar of his shirt as though he had clumsily cut himself while shaving. "I told you that you'd be sorry, Derek."

 

"Fuck no, please, I—I—"

 

"Be quiet," Will cut him off, pressing the knife hard enough that a deeper line decorated Derek's neck. The man stopped speaking immediately but he whimpered loudly enough to be heard over the television. "Is there anyone else home?" Derek shook his head, sawing another layer of skin from his neck against the blade. Tears spilled from his eyes. "Anyone on their way home?"

 

"Please don't hurt them," Derek pleaded and Will raised an eyebrow. "My wife and kids, please—"

 

"I have no quarrel with them," Will spoke over him again, growing bored of the begging. "You will write them a letter saying that you are leaving and will never come back, and then we will go. If you scream, run, or try to call anyone, I assure you that you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?" Derek sobbed weakly but nodded carefully against the knife. "Good. Make it quick."

 

He removed the knife from Derek's neck and took a step back. Derek remained on the couch until Will nudged him with a shoe and prompted him into action. Derek fumbled with a notepad and pen on the end table by the phone, likely for taking messages, and scribbled out a goodbye note in his own – albeit shaky – script. When he was done Will brought a cloth from his pocket he had kept hidden to cover the man's mouth and nose, and Derek was out. Will made sure to read over the goodbye note quickly to ensure there were no details about himself or Hannibal, and no hints towards other sources of information.

 

It was an effort moving the dead weight of the man through the house and out into the backyard but Will was nothing if not in shape. He was careful to avoid brushing against anything or leaving any signs of his presence behind. Will wiped the back door handle clean of his prints and then used Derek's limp hands against it, locking the door back up behind them, and wrestling Derek's body into the back seat of his car, which he would get cleaned the following morning. In the shadows of the empty street no one watched Will push his hair out of his eyes, glance both ways, and then get in his car to drive away.

 

Will didn't have a particular location in mind, except that he wanted to be somewhere far away from prying eyes and ears. Still mindful of his time ticking away, Will drove twenty minutes out of town to a large expanse of fields circled by forests. He found a clearing surrounded by trees thick enough to hide himself from view from the distant roads, but where the moonlight could still aid his efforts. Will parked and removed his coat before turning the car off. Derek was drowsily returning to consciousness by the time Will dragged him out of the back seat and dropped him onto the hard ground.

 

"You are an unfortunate man, Derek," Will informed him, watching his target blink back at him blurrily while Will pulled out his hunting knife again. The blade had already been tarnished with blood; Will would clean it dutifully once he was finished. But until then there would be far more blood to contend with. "Unfortunate because I can do absolutely everything I want to do to you."

 

"Please don't—"

 

"I don't need to leave your body for the police to find," Will continued on as if Derek had not spoken. "Which means I don't need to leave you in some form of recognizable condition. At the same time, I have no intention of eating flesh as poisoned as yours, so I don't need to avoid spoiling the meat." Will sneered as he imagined how sour Derek would taste on Will's plate. "I wouldn't even feed you to my dogs. I would almost feel sorry for you if you hadn't brought this upon yourself."

 

Derek was still somewhat out of it but he was shuffling backwards away from Will, who watched him go with sharp eyes. " _Please_. I shouldn't have—"

 

"No, you shouldn't have," Will agreed calmly. Quick as a viper striking, Will slammed his foot down on one of Derek's socked feet. He heard the satisfying pop and crack of Derek's ankle fracturing from the sudden force at an awkward angle, promptly followed by a scream. Will repeated the action on Derek's other foot and then kneeled above him, watching the agony flit across Derek's face. "Can't have you running away, can we?"

 

Through loud sobs Derek started up again, and endless "Please don't, please, please..."

 

Will sighed in mild annoyance, the needless noise grating on him. He shoved Derek down with his weight, pinning him to the ground with knees digging into his ribs, and then slammed Derek's head back against the frozen dirt. With skill and experience it would be a simple flick of the wrist before Derek's tongue was in his hand but Will held back at the last moment, reining himself in. As tempting as it was to cut out the man's tongue, it increased the risk of Derek bleeding out or suffocating on his own blood before Will was done with him.

 

"I'll save your tongue for last," he told Derek. "Since it is the weapon that caused the damage to get you here in the first place."

 

Will turned his attention downward and cut open Derek's shirt cleanly, pulling it away with clinical efficiency. It would be easy enough to dispose of the man's clothes afterwards and were merely an irritating barrier at present. Before Will could decide what he wanted to do first, Derek made a frantic swing as he attempted to punch Will or shove off his weight. Unfortunately he would never be fast enough and Derek's fist met Will's prepared blade, igniting a new scream of pain.

 

Will knocked Derek's head back against the ground again to stun him and then turned his attention to Derek's uninjured hand. "This will hurt," he warned the man before slipping the blade between bone and tendons until his knife dug against soil. Derek squirmed and tried to buck him off but it just made the cut ragged and Will didn't care about presentation this time. Each flex of Derek's hand made it worse and Derek didn't manage to focus through the pain enough to pry his hand from where it had been pinned before Will removed the second knife he had brought from his belt.

 

This one had a saw tooth blade, better equipped to work through bone. Derek lost one hand and then the other, Will wanting to avoid the chance of Derek causing any bruises or cuts on Will's skin that could not be easily explained away. Derek passed out due to the pain halfway through losing his second hand and Will decided he might as well remove the rest of Derek's clothes before they became soiled upon the man's death. During the few minutes he had alone to wait for Derek to regain consciousness Will stuffed Derek's bloody clothes in a bag in his trunk to be dealt with later. Then he returned to sitting on Derek's stomach, causing the man to wheeze for air when he woke up again.

 

Blood was everywhere but the cold air around them slowed the flow. Will took his time cutting deep lines between Derek's ribs, careful not to cut so deep to damage internal organs or nick bone. Derek returned to pleading for his life but his voice had grown weak and hopeless, sobs soon overtaking words entirely. It felt so good to feel flesh part for him the way Will would never risk with Hannibal for fear of losing something irreplaceable.

 

Thoughts of Hannibal goaded Will into cutting deeper, wringing a few more screams from Derek's wrecked throat. A part of Will wanted to continue this well into the next day but he knew that was a foolish, whimsical thought. He was on a clock to finish up and get back to the opera before the final curtain fell. On top of that, his hands were growing stiff from the cold and Derek was closer to dead than alive at this point anyway.

 

Will felt a brief sense of loss at realizing that his fun had come to an end. As soon as Derek was dead and dealt with, Will would need to return to society and slot his mask back into place, acting out a practiced but dull role. It was only out here in the trees and bathed by the moon that Will was completely free and unbound. "You should not have hurt what is precious to me," Will chided Derek quietly, who was only trembling now. "But thank you. I enjoyed this immensely."

 

"You're the d-devil," Derek spat. "You will b-burn in h-hellfire."

 

Will smiled thoughtfully. "I don't think the Devil burns."

 

Derek's mouth was agape, words escaping him. Will took it as an invitation and finally cut out the offending tongue that had lashed Hannibal more harshly than the bite of a whip. He set the tongue down on the ground beside the detached hands and then watched with calm satisfaction as blood pooled in Derek's mouth and spilled over. Derek choked and coughed but it didn't take long before Will saw his throat working. Derek would try to swallow what he could and the rest of the blood would fill his lungs.

 

Though Derek hit at Will with what remained of his arms and kneed Will multiple times in the back, Will would not be dislodged. He would not allow Derek to roll over and spit out the rest of the blood. This was his end. Will heard the gurgles of Derek suffocating on his blood, felt the twitching of his body and the racing of his heart until all was still in the forest beneath the moon. Will sat for another minute longer to be certain and then checked for a pulse he knew would be gone.

 

Will checked his work and then began his meticulous cleanup. His movements were precise and quick, no pleasure to be taken now that Derek's suffering was beyond Will's grasp. Will cut up the rest of the body into manageably-small pieces and bagged everything up, knowing that the farmers of the nearby fields would get suspicious and come looking around if a bunch of wild animals suddenly congregated in these trees around a free feast. There was nothing he could do about the blood soaked into the dirt but it wouldn't draw enough attention to be investigated before it wore away with time and weather.

 

The pieces went into two coolers in his trunk beside the bag of clothes and then Will peeled off his own bloodied clothes, stuffing them in with Derek's clothes. The chill of the air made it hard for Will to still his hands long enough to use the towels and water he had brought to wipe off the blood from his hands, face and neck, but he managed it.

 

As soon as he was certain that there was no blood left on him, Will pulled on a duplicate set of his earlier outfit which he had brought along with the spare coat and hopped into the driver's seat. He looked himself over in the mirror one last time to confirm there was no blood he had missed and then took a few more minutes to clean both knives of blood and fingerprints. Will checked and double-checked that he hadn't forgotten anything and then started the car, sighing in relief at the heat from the vents as he drove back to the road.

 

A quick glance at his dashboard clock made it obvious that Will didn't have enough time to scatter all the pieces of Derek's body. Not that it was a requirement to do so. Will just thought it smart to be rid of evidence as soon as possible. The meat would keep fresh in the coolers for a day though, and Will would complete another trek into further stretches of wilderness tomorrow night. Will drove back to town, parked his car, removed his spare coat, and slipped through the back door a second time after a quick jimmying of the lock.

 

The upstairs washroom was empty and Will looked himself over one last time. He needed a shower but there was nothing on his body or clothes to give his extracurricular activities away. Will returned to his seat, not running into anyone in the halls, and relaxed while listening to the final two songs of the performance. His body was thrumming with energy as though he had consumed Derek's life force. Will was accustomed to this, the pleased satisfaction that filled him in waves.

 

What Will was _not_ accustomed to was the way his eyes kept skirting over the empty seat beside him, making him wish for Hannibal to be with him and enjoying the new show. Will's smile slipped from his lips slowly but steadily, and by the time the curtain fell and the room's applause was dying out, all Will could think about was tasting Hannibal's skin... Or even a quiet discussion punctuated by lazy sips of wine. Never before had his memories of a kill faded so quickly or become so worthless that they did not hold comparison to the desire for another's company.

 

Regardless, Will knew that Hannibal was occupied with other plans that night – preparing his first lesson for returning back to teaching the following Monday. And beyond that, Will had an alibi to sew tightly shut. So Will momentarily set aside his longing for his companion and exited his box into the throng of the customary champagne party. He had seen the opera that had been performed tonight before so it was easy to answer questions or provide insights that could keep up with the discussions of the group.

 

At last everyone was finished with their drinks and headed down to coat check together. Will allowed the others to go first, waving goodbyes and nodding his agreement at seeing them all again sooner rather than later. Deborah brought his jacket from the hanger it had been on for the last three hours and gave him a kind smile when she handed it over. "Did you have an enjoyable evening?" she asked.

 

Will considered it and slowly, smoothly, his smile returned. "Yes, I did. Very much so."

 

#

 

It took weeks of research and preparation. Will wanted everything to be perfect. Though it would all seem in-the-moment to Hannibal, there would be a delicately-woven web in the background with Will knowingly pulling the strings. This would be the moment when everything changed and Will caught himself fantasizing frequently about the being he hoped would emerge from Hannibal's chrysalis at the end of it all.

 

Time flew quickly and it was nearing the end of January. Hannibal had returned to teaching his classes and assisting with some FBI crime scenes while Will resumed sessions with patients. Hannibal's time slot in Will's office remained occupied and they spoke of their weeks and other deeper thoughts before the beginning of each weekend. It was common for Will to invite Hannibal over to his house afterwards and for Hannibal to accept, sharing food, wine, and warm bed sheets as Will rocked into him.

 

On the last Saturday morning of January, Will treated Hannibal to breakfast in bed and then relented when Hannibal insisted he had to head home. He had already warned Will that he had a collection of essays to mark over the weekend and Will let him leave with only minimal groping. The afternoon dragged by, Will checking the clock impatiently until it was at last time for him to eat a light dinner and slide into his car.

 

Will had researched the more rundown areas surrounding Hannibal's apartment and then the locations of criminals released from prison now calling those areas home. The necessity for finding the perfect target was twofold. First, Will needed someone to react the way he required and play into his web. Second, Will needed someone whose death would not weigh heavily on Hannibal's shoulders.

 

After meticulous scouting, Will had found his target and now drove across town to his planned destination. Once he arrived, Will parked his car along the curb and cut the engine. There was minimal snow on the ground but the wind was biting and Will pulled his coat tighter around himself as he got out of the car. He could see his target halfway down the alley he had parked in front of, smoking as was his routine at this time of night.

 

Jason Edwards. He was part of a drug trafficking ring but took the liberty of tasting the product he was moving from time to time. Likely due to the violent tendencies that emerged when he was under the influence of the drugs, Jason had become responsible for the death of his wife and two young children. He took them to their cottage one weekend, lined them up and shot them down. The mongrels who ran the drug ring didn't care enough for the thief to help him, but Jason's prison sentence was still drastically reduced thanks to the money he had stashed away.

 

Jason glanced at Will down the alley and bared his teeth, feet pacing though he didn't approach yet. Will could see the criminal eying Will's expensive coat and car, calculating the advantage of attacking. If he didn't move on his own, Will would be happy to prompt him. But first there was something he had to do.

 

Will popped the hood of his car and then pulled out his phone. As he called Hannibal's number, Will walked around his car to stand in the mouth of the alley with his back to his target, offering further temptation of seemingly easy prey. Hannibal picked up on the second ring. "Will, is everything alright?"

 

"Sort of," Will answered, infusing a hint of anxiety and frustration into his tone. "I know you said you were going to be busy for the rest of the weekend but I thought I'd visit for a little while. Except my car died on my way over," he forced a sigh.

 

"Where are you?"

 

Will couldn't help his small smile when he heard footsteps crossing a floor and a coat getting tugged on. How lovely Hannibal was. "On Jarvis Street, just past Amber Road. But you don't have to come get me," Will touched a hand to his pocket, miming a subconscious action. "I have my wallet. I can call a cab."

 

"It's only a five minute walk from my apartment, Will," Hannibal reasoned.

 

Will smiled wider, both at hearing a zipper being done up and the telltale scuff of a shoe edging closer behind him. "Seriously Hannibal, I should be fine—"

 

It was easy to let his sentence be cut off by a cry of pain when he was hit hard on the back of the head. Will gasped Hannibal's name and let the phone drop, barely hearing Hannibal's concerned shout of his name through the phone's speaker before Jason's fist hit Will's cheek as he turned. Will stumbled backwards but righted himself to stop Jason from too easily grabbing his wallet from his coat and running.

 

This was the tricky part. Hannibal's coat and shoes were already on and a five minute walk could be shortened to a breathless two minute run – which Will was certain Hannibal had already started at this point. It wasn't enough to have Hannibal find Will beaten down in the alley; the point was for Hannibal to find them mid-fight and get swept up in the moment.

 

Will pushed Jason backwards and dashed a few steps further into the alley, uninterested in other onlookers watching from behind pulled-back curtains. He slowed his pace enough for Jason to catch up and shove him into the wall again, the man in too deep to turn back now. Will aimed a punch at Jason's cheek and left himself open to have his back pinned against the wall by Jason's desperation. Jason's fingers scrabbled at Will's jacket and Will batted him away, shaking off the throbbing of his head.

 

Furious at having to work for his steal, Jason rained down a series of punches to Will's chest and ribs. He wasn't exactly skilful but he had enough strength in his arms to knock air from Will's lungs with each hit. Each time Will fought back Jason became more enraged and in a rush Will had two large hands gripping tightly around his neck. He felt his shoulder blades scrape against the brick wall as his feet left the ground, Jason's intent vicious as he cut off Will's airways.

 

Will reached up and dug his nails into Jason's wrists, making the man curse and knock Will's head against the wall again. Will had lost track of the seconds that had passed and knew he couldn't allow Jason to maintain this position much longer. He would either have to push Jason away and risk the man giving up and running, or let himself be choked until he lost consciousness and hope Hannibal still arrived in time. It was just as Will began to grip tighter with his nails, ready to find enough leverage to kick Jason away, when he heard a shout at the alley entranceway.

 

Jason didn't react, too focused on his rage to withdraw. Will yanked on Jason's hands with earnest, his head swimming now as his body craved oxygen. He blinked spots from his eyes, refusing to miss any detail as Hannibal ran down the alley towards them. Even though he was being strangled and his lungs were screaming for air, Will could only smile as Hannibal came into his line of sight, dark coat billowing out behind him. Hannibal looked like an avenging angel of death and Will felt his entire being ache with want.

 

With his momentum, Hannibal shoved himself between Will and Jason, breaking them apart. Will had nowhere to go except to slump to the ground against the wall but Jason stumbled backwards, unable to catch his footing as he fell hard to the ground. Hannibal's gaze swept critically over Will in an instant, ensuring that he would be alright as Will began to gulp down ragged gasps of air. Will hoped it was the sight of his own rumpled and bruised body that lit a fire in Hannibal's eyes before the man turned back and descended upon Will's attacker.

 

Jason was clutching at his arm, trying and failing to drag himself to his feet. Before he had a chance Hannibal was above him, a solid kick to the chest sending Jason sprawling across the frozen pavement. Will forced his eyes to remain open to watch as Hannibal rested one foot heavily on Jason's collarbones just above his chest, holding him down. Jason spat blood and empty threats up at Hannibal who blinked and remained unfazed. Only the tight line of his lips betrayed his inner wrath.

 

Hannibal didn't give Jason a chance to fight back again as he stood fully on Jason with one foot – stealing a groan from the man at the weight – and quickly used his other foot to force Jason's head in a sudden jerk to the side. The _snap_ of Jason's vertebrae had Will moaning his approval, and dragging Hannibal down into a deep, heated kiss when Hannibal abandoned his kill almost immediately to return to check on Will's condition.

 

Though for an instant he feared that Hannibal would instantly be caught up by fear or regret over what he had done, Will was not disappointed when Hannibal straddled Will's lap, knees framing him and holding him bodily against the wall as he devoured Will's mouth. Will managed to get his hands beneath Hannibal's coat enough for his fingers to skim and scrape greedily, both of them gasping into each other's mouths as they ignored the need for oxygen until they were both dizzy.

 

Hannibal was thrumming with energy and it was intoxicating. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the alley, his lips swollen from the kisses and still curled in a slight snarl as his anger licked at his insides. Will leaned forward and nipped Hannibal's bottom lip _hard_. In that moment there was nothing he wanted more than for Hannibal to turn him over on his hands and knees and fuck him open on the unforgiving concrete.

 

Still, he knew they had to wait – at least for a few minutes. There had been no onlookers yet but it was inevitable that someone would eventually traverse the quiet street or alley. Will knew that Hannibal could read the desire on his face but he withdrew when Will nudged him backwards. Hannibal steadied Will until he got his feet under him and together they lifted Jason's dead weight, one arm over each of their shoulders as if they were assisting a friend who had indulged in too much alcohol.

 

They got him slumped in the back seat and Will left Hannibal to confirm the faded pulse while Will murmured about continuing to check the car engine. It was simple enough to pretend he was fumbling around the engine until he found the 'loose' connections and got the engine back in working order. Will closed the hood of his car and slid into the driver's seat, already finding Hannibal buckled up in the passenger seat. Hannibal suggested driving but Will waved him off, knowing his adrenaline and arousal would help him focus through the pain in his head long enough to drive them safely out of town.

 

The interior of the car was stifled with silence as Will drove onto the highway and let the bright lights of Baltimore fall behind them. Hannibal's fingers clutched at the fabric of his pants, body stiff and immobile. Will didn't disrupt his inner thoughts, unwilling to cause ripples until they were somewhere that allowed him to handle whatever reaction emerged.

 

There was a lake Will knew that was a thirty minute drive north where he sometimes enjoyed going to ice fish. Even the roads leading to the bank of the lake were unpopulated, overgrown and treacherous to anyone unfamiliar with the unsteady rocks and dirt covering the path. The moon was a mere sliver and its weak light was easily blotted out by shifting clouds and branches of the tall trees stretching above them. Just off the path near the bank of water Will parked the car but left the engine running, needing the heat from the vents to fight off the night chill.

 

His body ached from the attack and Will groaned but came willingly when Hannibal unclipped their seatbelts and dragged Will across the gear shift. Hannibal settled Will in his lap, knees framing Hannibal's thighs, and then gripped Will's hair to pull him into a violent kiss. Hannibal repositioned his fingers when they brushed the scrapes from Will's head hitting the wall but he didn't let go. Hannibal swallowed Will's moans, uncaring that they were equal pain and pleasure, and began to tear at the fabric of Will's coat.

 

Will shrugged off his coat, letting it fall over Hannibal's boots. He clawed at Hannibal's clothes as well while meeting each hungry kiss. Hannibal tasted of danger and desperation and Will fed those instincts with painful nips to Hannibal's lower lip and jaw. As soon as Will's shirt was undone and fluttering open, Hannibal's hands squeezed Will's waist and pulled them flush together.

 

Will's mouth separated from Hannibal's with a groan when he felt the friction of his clothed cock sliding along the heat of Hannibal's thigh. Immediately Hannibal dropped his head and bit viciously into the hand-shaped bruises collaring Will's neck. "H-Hannibal," Will moaned as his eyes flashed open, the pain from the bite shooting down his spine to harden his already-straining erection.

 

Hannibal began to murmur Will's name into his skin as he lapped at the bite to soothe the pain. However, Will found himself momentarily distracted by the sight of Hannibal's kill sprawled across the seat behind them. Jason's eyes were unseeing and there was a drying trail of blood dripping from his nose. Pride coursed through Will's veins and he whispered in Hannibal's ear, "You were incredible."

 

Hannibal's response was another deeper bite on the other side of Will's neck. When he felt his eyes tear with pain, Will knew Hannibal's teeth had broken skin. Will would have to get the wound cleaned later but for now he only held Hannibal's head in place to encourage him while Will's breathing turned to harsh panting. He didn't care about what anyone would think; in this moment Hannibal was acting on animalistic instincts and Will wanted to let Hannibal run wild with him.

 

Hannibal continued to suck and bite at Will's skin, ensuring he would be mottled with bruises and blood. "You are mine," Hannibal proclaimed against Will's neck. One of his hands moved to grind the heel of his palm along the hard ridge of Will's cock.

 

Will thrust into the pressure. "Then make me yours."

 

For the first time that evening, Hannibal hesitated and pulled back. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed, and Will had never seen anyone more appealing in his life. "Is there any lube?" Will shook his head and Hannibal brushed his fingers along Will's kiss-swollen lips. "I can't..."

 

"You can," Will insisted. With their eyes locked, Will sucked Hannibal's fingers past his lips. He cradled Hannibal's fingers on his tongue and then brushed it between them, moistening Hannibal's fingers as much as possible.

 

While Will continued to wet Hannibal's fingers, his own hand fumbled blindly with the zipper of Hannibal's pants and then his own. He was relieved for the car vents keeping the interior comfortably warm. It took some awkward fumbling but Hannibal held Will steady as he removed his pants and underwear and resituated himself on Hannibal's lap.

 

For a second time Will sucked Hannibal's fingers into his mouth to moisten them and then nipped the pad of one finger. "Take me, Hannibal," he said, both order and plea.

 

It hurt when Hannibal slipped both fingers inside him, but it felt good to ache for Hannibal's pleasure. And Hannibal took care with Will, animal hunger held at bay to favour concern. The stretching of Hannibal's fingers caused a burn at the base of Will's spine but instead of shying away, he rocked himself down, taking Hannibal's fingers deeper.

 

Hannibal returned his mouth to Will's neck but used lips instead of teeth, leaving his own marks above the bruises left by Jason. Will relished in the attention until his cock throbbed with need and Will asked for more with nails dug into the soft flesh of Hannibal's upper back. Hannibal removed his fingers and Will fished Hannibal's cock out of his pants and underwear. It was going to hurt no matter what but Will moved to lean over and briefly encircle Hannibal with his mouth, coating him in saliva.

 

He withdrew when Hannibal tugged harshly at his hair, growling that he wasn't going to last. Will allowed himself to be manhandled and replaced on Hannibal's lap, the moist tip of his cock nudging against the seam of Will's ass. "Will..." Hannibal hesitated one final time, even as his fingers pried apart Will's ass cheeks in preparation.

 

Will kissed the corner of Hannibal's mouth, giving permission for Hannibal to take everything he needed and wanted. "I'm yours," he promised and encouraged. Will gritted his teeth until his jaw ached when Hannibal began to push into him, sitting Will down onto his length. Will could feel a feverish sweat break out across his skin at the pain, but he was unaware of his building whine until Hannibal began to press soothing open-mouthed kisses to his throat.

 

Will's nails were embedded into the skin above Hannibal's shoulder blades, keeping himself grounded while he twitched and shuddered through the sensation of his body shattering to pieces. He continued to pant and blink away tears clinging to his lashes until Hannibal was fully sheathed inside him, Will resting on Hannibal's burning thighs. Over Hannibal's shoulder Will's eyes lingered on Jason's unmoving body and he shook off the dizziness from the pain.

 

Hannibal held himself still to give Will time to adjust to the thickness of him – an appreciated gesture considering it had been a very long time since Will had last opened himself up to allow this dynamic. However, Will could feel the way Hannibal trembled with need, his body still charged with adrenaline and power. Will thought back to the sight of Hannibal striding down the alley and the way he looked standing over his first kill. It was almost instinct when Will began to rise and lower himself on Hannibal's cock, satisfying a primal need to mate with his equal.

 

Will's voluntary movement was all Hannibal needed to snap into motion. Hannibal darkened the bruises on Will's hips as he held him in place, fucking into Will in rough strokes that knocked the air from his lungs. Hannibal was burning and pulsing inside Will with each thrust of his hips, dragging against the tight insides of Will's ass. Without lube there was too much friction but Will would never allow them to stop this now.

 

Will's back was already bruised and scraped from being held against the alley wall and Will scored Hannibal's back with similar marks using his nails. Hannibal hissed at the sting of it and fucked Will rougher, Will taking it all and keeping his body loose and pliant for Hannibal's use. It hadn't taken long for Hannibal to find the right angle to hit Will's prostate and he took full advantage, which helped the pleasure outweigh the pain in Will's spine.

 

Will reached down and began to fist himself in time with Hannibal's thrusts. He cursed and begged, loving the way his words turned his partner frenzied. As Will brushed a thumb over the head of his cock he felt his body spasm, warning him of the fast-approaching end. "Close," he told Hannibal, struggling to speak through the shortness of his breath. "Fill me."

 

Hannibal's reaction was an immediate upward jerk of his hips at the same time as his hands pushed Will down. A groan rumbled in Hannibal's chest as he ground repeatedly against Will's ass, and then his body snapped into a rigid arch as he tumbled over the edge into orgasm.

 

All Will needed was to feel the hot slickness of Hannibal's come filling his ass and soothing the fiction inside him and Will broke. He gasped Hannibal's name and shot his seed across Hannibal's shirt, jaw slack and eyes half-closed in bliss. Hannibal settled first but continued to support Will's squirming weight until Will was spend and he collapsed forward to rest on Hannibal's chest.

 

They breathed heavily as one, chests pressed together. They remained where they were until Hannibal's cock started to soften. On shaky legs Will struggled to lift himself off Hannibal's waning erection, realizing only as his body shifted how sore he was going to be because of the dry penetration.

 

Hannibal was there with steady hands and warm lips, settling Will where he could sprawl across Hannibal's lap and stretch out his legs. Will's heart was just slowing when he noticed that Hannibal was murmuring words against Will's skin where he was pressing soft kisses. "I could have lost you..."

 

Will didn't feel the need to tell Hannibal how unlikely it would have been for Jason to gain the upper hand if Will hadn't been letting him win. It was nice to feel cherished, protected. "You didn't," Will promised as he cupped Hannibal's jaw and drew him into a deep, passionate kiss. "I'm here."

 

He met each kiss until Hannibal seemed satisfied and finally relaxed. Hannibal leaned back on the seat, his eyes and fingers roaming freely across Will's exposed body. Eventually Hannibal's attention stalled on Will's abused neck and he frowned. "We should get you home and patched up."

 

Will kissed Hannibal's straying fingers but then glanced over Hannibal's shoulder again. "What would you like to do with him?" He wasn't sure what to expect in terms of a reaction from Hannibal. Would Hannibal's protective fury prompt him to rain further punishment down on Jason's unfeeling body, or would remorse keep Hannibal's gaze turned down and away? Would Hannibal break? Would Will need to promise to take care of it and get rid of the body alone?

 

Hannibal didn't turn to look at the corpse he had made, but disgust or guilt didn't flit across his face either. "I'd throw him in the trash if someone wouldn't find him," Hannibal spoke slowly, only hatred in his eyes for the man he had killed. However, Hannibal's eyebrows knit together in thought as his hand cupped Will's cheek. "I know I should feel awful but I can't when I know he hurt you, and would've killed you," Hannibal confessed. "But shouldn't you be horrified with me?"

 

Will felt his confession swell in his chest and try to crawl up his throat. How desperately he wanted to tell Hannibal exactly why Will was filled with pride and joy instead of fear and disgust at Hannibal's actions tonight. How strongly he desired to be held in Hannibal's arms and to feel their lips slot together when Hannibal knew Will's true nature and there were no more masks between them. But their situation was still precarious and Will had to be careful. He needed to be patient long enough to confirm that Hannibal wouldn't splinter from this after the adrenaline seeped from his veins.

 

He turned his face and kissed Hannibal's palm before biting lightly at the base of Hannibal's thumb, teeth in skin and muscle. "I can't feel remorse over the death of the man that tried to kill me. And I can't feel anything but adoration for the man who saved me." His heart hurt, feeling like it was uncomfortably large in his chest. Will turned his cheek back into Hannibal's palm and their eyes met, a warm smile passing between them. It would never matter that Will had set the situation up because Hannibal had still killed for Will.

 

Hannibal's free hand held Will but his eyes didn't roam. "I want you in my bed."

 

"Let's deal with him and go," Will said. Before he had imagined what it would be like butchering Hannibal's first kill with him, fantasized in detail how it would play out. Now all he wanted to do was chuck the body for disposal so they could leave. Tend to their wounds, melt in a burning shower and then fall together into bed. There would be time for other kills in future. This, now, was about Hannibal and Will, not Jason.

 

"How?" Hannibal's expression was contemplative. Years of experience with the FBI was running through Hannibal's head, telling him what needed to be done to avoid capture. "No one can find the body. But it will take hours to dig a grave deep enough, especially with the ground this frozen."

 

Will remained silent for a few long moments, trying to not make it too obvious that he had already thought all of this through – and carried the actions out – many times before. "I keep a survival kit in my trunk," he offered slowly. "It includes some hunting materials in case of an emergency."

 

Hannibal's eyes were sharp and intelligent as they considered Will's words and the possibilities. Will knew there was an increasing chance that Hannibal might guess his nature without requiring a confession from Will. It was an equally uneasy and exhilarating thought that Hannibal's awareness and reaction might be out of Will's control, but at the same time this was why he had chosen Hannibal in the first place. He wanted an equal, not a lesser who would trail behind in his wake.

 

"We could cut him up," Hannibal mused, voice halted. Hannibal too had to be cautious, still without the confirmation of the shadows in Will's mind. Will would never betray Hannibal or turn him into the authorities, but Hannibal couldn't yet know that with complete certainty. "Scatter the pieces. Let nature clean up for us."

 

Will nodded his agreement and kissed Hannibal, deep and slow. "They will never find him."

 

Will knew he had to get up, get dressed, and move out of Hannibal's way, but it hurt when he tried to shuffle off Hannibal's lap and he allowed his partner to support his weight when Will's knees threatened to buckle with the pain between his legs. It was cramped in the car and awkward trying to get Will back into his clothes when his body ached so viciously, but Hannibal was careful and devoted until he was certain Will was bundled up and properly protected against the outdoor chill.

 

From the car's trunk they unfurled a plastic tarp on the ground and then moved Jason onto it. Will assisted Hannibal in selecting the knives he would use but then leaned against the car to watch, doubting his ability to stand again if he crouched down. He remained a comforting presence while Hannibal got to work, peeling away Jason's clothes before selecting his first knife. Hannibal knew enough about anatomy to choose the easiest joints to cut at, and though he hesitated when blood first spilled across his fingers, Hannibal pressed on with meticulous efficiency and focus.

 

It took a while with Hannibal's inexperience but Will would not interrupt or rush him. They were both shivering with the cold when Jason was finally chopped up into little disposable pieces and Hannibal stood on stiff legs. He studied his work for a long minute and then turned to Will, eyes assessing Will's trembling form critically. "Where should we leave him?"

 

"We'll spread the pieces farther apart," Will said. "Let's get it all packed up and go."

 

It was messy work getting the butchered and bloody pieces into a few large garbage bags in the trunk and draining the pooled blood from the tarp into the forest's underbrush. Will already knew that the car would need another cleaning so he didn't concern himself with the state of their clothes as he and Hannibal slid back into the driver and passenger seats. He was glad to be sitting again, though he had to wipe away sweat from his forehead caused by the pain coursing up his spine. Will couldn't regret the dry penetration though; it had been worth it.

 

For a while they were silent. Will drove to different remote sections of forest, marsh and fields he was aware of but hadn't recently utilized himself. At each location Hannibal would get out of the car, select another hunk of Jason's corpse and disappear a distance from the road to dispose of it where wildlife would find and devour it. When he returned Hannibal would wipe his bloody palms on his already-ruined pants, kiss Will's breath away, and then Will would drive away to their next destination.

 

When it was time to throw away the last piece of the corpse, Will cut the engine and got out of the car with Hannibal. He ignored Hannibal's insistence that Will rest and in the end Hannibal kept him steady with an arm when he saw that Will's movements had turned stiff and pained. A hunk of Jason's thigh was chucked into a ravine and then Will and Hannibal stood side by side, looking down at the dead, frozen leaves littering the ground.

 

"Anytime I imagined killing someone, I feared remorse," Hannibal said quietly. "But I feel no regret." He glanced at Will, who looked back with a steady gaze. "The world is a better place without that man in it."

 

"It is," Will agreed.

 

"Is what I'm feeling normal?" Hannibal wondered, though without concern in his voice.

 

"Whoever said we were normal?" Will smiled and allowed himself to be led back to the car after Hannibal returned that fond, knowing smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out, and decisions must be made.

Hannibal insisted on driving the car back into town, allowing Will to rest in the passenger seat. It didn't matter that Will was trying to hide how much his body ached from their coupling. It didn't even matter that Will told Hannibal that he didn't regret a second of it – which Hannibal believed. But Hannibal still felt powerful and righteous and now he would take care of his partner however he could.

 

Back at Hannibal's apartment he led Will into the elevator and stripped him of all clothes as soon as they were inside and the door was locked behind them. As soon as Will was naked Hannibal grabbed his first aid kit and cleaned all of Will's wounds, avoiding any chance of infection. After that he considered running a hot bath but knew both of them were too exhausted between the late hour and their night time activities to stay awake long enough to appreciate it. So he got them both into the shower, took his time massaging his hands over Will's skin and into his hair, and then let Will lean heavily on the warmed tile wall while Hannibal quickly rinsed his own body clean of blood and dirt.

 

Once satisfied with their state of cleanliness, Hannibal towelled them both dry and settled Will into bed. His apartment wasn't nearly as luxurious as Will's house but Will didn't seem to mind, sprawled contently across Hannibal's mattress. It was painful for Hannibal to look over Will's body and take in all the damage across his skin but Hannibal forced himself to leave the bedside lamp on for a few minutes as he studied and kissed each bruise, scrape and bite.

 

The anger in his gut felt like molten lead and the horror at the thought of losing Will dug claws into his heart. The unknown assailant's death did not weigh heavy on Hannibal's mind, not when he knew that his own inaction would've resulted in Will's death. Will, who had slotted so comfortably into Hannibal's life and shown only support and acceptance. Even now, with the death of a man on Hannibal's shoulders, Will didn't shy away or look at him differently. Instead, Will's eyes, however dozy, seemed warmer and more open as he watched Hannibal above him.

 

At last Hannibal turned off the light, bathing them both in shadows. Hannibal slid into bed and wrapped the blankets around them both before pulling Will closer to him, their combined body heat fighting off any lingering cold in their bones from their trek across the state. Hannibal thought back to the sound of the attacker's neck snapping, of his sightless eyes and the feel of his flesh and blood against Hannibal's palms. It had felt so good, trumped only by Will coming in his lap, kissing him, and helping to dispose of the body afterwards. He would've been terrified that Will would hate or be scared of him and turn Hannibal into the police, but Hannibal felt no anxiety after Will's reaction.

 

"Will," Hannibal whispered, lips brushing Will's temple. Words he never thought he'd want to say to another person – not after the violent loss of his family – welled up inside him. But Will was already asleep, breath calm and even, and Hannibal wouldn't wake him. So he kissed Will's forehead, held him tight, and closed his eyes.

 

#

 

Weeks passed and the only thing that changed was the ferocity of his lovemaking with Will once Will had recovered from the dry penetration in the car. The death shared between them and the secret they held had set the world on fire, igniting them and bringing them to a new level of being. Will was a changed man too; Hannibal could sense it. What the man had held back for so many years – same as Hannibal – was finally released and granted free reign in Hannibal's presence.

 

It felt addictingly wonderful that they had not only been able to indulge, but had gotten away with murder without a single negative consequence thanks to their shared knowledge and experience. It was dangerously heady but Hannibal didn't care when it made Will rock into him with the insistence of an animal in heat and Hannibal just pulled him closer and demanded more.

 

Killing had brought a new sharpness to Hannibal's eyes. It had been so easy, such a simple task. Not only did it make Hannibal feel powerful, but it gave him a deeper sense of appreciation for life. Something lost so easily and so difficult to sometimes protect. It had Hannibal holding Will tighter, marking him greedily as Hannibal's own.

 

Hannibal had killed the men who had taken away his family for revenge, to enact justice on those who deserved it. That had felt good too, even though Hannibal's body had trembled long after the men where cold and dead on the floor. People had told him it had been wrong though, that killing those men would not bring back his family and that he had committed a terrible crime of his own.

 

But when Hannibal had killed Will's attacker, how could anyone tell him that he had been wrong? Not when Will remained alive and well, injuries healed and mind stable. His actions had not been a pointless lashing out of emotion. Hannibal had protected a life of value. And even if the attacker's actions weren't enough to convince Hannibal that he had made the right choice, a search through the databases at work had assured Hannibal of this. Jason Edwards had been a stain on society, and Hannibal had wiped him out.

 

He and Will had spoken about it at length, in private and away from prying eyes and ears. Hannibal spoke about how it had felt to kill Jason, how it compared to killing the murderers of his family, and how doubt had been a fleeting and frail visitor. Will told him in low, rumbling words how Hannibal had looked descending upon Will's enemy, breaking his neck, cutting him up, and casting him off later. Hannibal enjoyed hearing Will's words, and seeing the heat it sparked in Will's eyes.

 

They also spoke of the plaguing thoughts of doing it again, though more cautiously. They had both already discussed the previous deaths they had been responsible for – Hannibal with the killers of his family and Will with the man who had killed Will's dog back in Louisiana – but only now did they feel safe enough to truly acknowledge how much those experiences had lingered.

 

Hannibal confessed that whenever he saw someone being rude, abusing the system or being cruel to those who couldn't defend themselves, his muscles corded up with an urge to cut the offender down. Will admitted quietly that sometimes he would imagine human prey when out in the forest during hunting seasons, clearing out the worst of society. Neither of them could say – _but I never would_ – because they both had killed humans. And when their eyes locked, Hannibal wondered over the likelihood of them both doing it again – _together_.

 

He didn't voice that thought, because there had to be a line somewhere even if the boundaries Hannibal had been taught his whole life were blurring around him. It wasn't like he and Will were going to become vigilantes in the city of Baltimore. It was a tempting fantasy when Hannibal thought about the frustrating red tape he had to deal with while working with the FBI, but it wasn't realistic. Hannibal's disgust with the scum of society was secondary to Will, and Hannibal wouldn't risk Will's wellbeing by drawing them needlessly into danger.

 

Hannibal and Will's lives continued on as normal, except better with their deeper connection and increasingly open dialogue. Hannibal continued to teach his class and assist Jack with cases whenever needed, and Will continued his practice. There hadn't been any more bodies from the killer who carved messages into his victims, and Jack would've been tearing his hair out if he had more to lose, paranoid and frustrated at the lack of new messages. Hannibal admitted to Will late one evening that he was still extremely curious, but suspected that it was just a matter of being patient.

 

"What makes you say that?" Will asked while lifting his glass to take a sip of wine. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth beside where they sat in Will's study.

 

"No one can tell me those bodies weren't left specifically for me to see," Hannibal said. Not with his name carved into the corpses' bellies. "Someone like that doesn't act randomly. There's a plan in place." His eyebrows furrowed in thought, trying to solve a puzzle when the majority of pieces were shrouded in darkness and out of sight. "I just can't see it."

 

"You probably aren't supposed to," Will reasoned. He didn't sound bothered by the topic, which Hannibal appreciated.

 

Hannibal shook his head, eyes on the fire. He found it difficult to focus when looking at Will's face and all the micro expressions displayed there. "It's always been a challenge. He wants me to know. It's a test. And I feel like I'm failing. He's already given me three bodies. Three pieces of the puzzle and I'm floundering."

 

"Those three bodies weren't incredibly telling," Will reminded him. "Only glimpses. Who could determine an identity from what was left for you?"

 

Hannibal pursed his lips. "Maybe he thinks I should be able to, and I've disappointed him."

 

"Or he's left."

 

Hannibal's eyes flashed to Will's face, but there was nothing to read there. It was difficult to soothe the clench in his stomach at Will's words. Hannibal knew he should be avoiding the risk of playing into the killer's hands, but the thought that the man had grown weary of him and abandoned the game entirely left a sour taste in Hannibal's mouth. "I don't think so," Hannibal forced himself to say. "The killer strikes me as a patient sort. He wouldn't leave me behind."

 

It took a few seconds for Hannibal to realize exactly what he had said, and how it sounded. However, when he opened his mouth to try to explain or apologize, Will waved him off with an understanding look. They sat in silence for a few minutes and eventually Hannibal remembered his own wine glass to sip a few times as he got lost in thought. Will's voice hooked him again. "What would you do if you met him?"

 

Hannibal's thumb traced the rim of his wine glass absentmindedly. "Ask a lot of questions. I feel that there is something left for me to understand. A motive waiting to be explained."

 

"He's a killer," Will pressed.

 

One shoulder rose in an unmotivated shrug from Hannibal. "So am I," he looked at Will. "So are you. It was you who taught me the importance of motive and circumstance." Neither of them looked away. "I would take the time to understand before judgement was passed."

 

Will chuckled then, a slightly startling sound for the quiet room during such a serious discussion. "You make it sound like you'll sit him down for tea, when you know that as soon as he's caught, the killer will be carted away by the FBI and locked up."

 

Hannibal frowned at that. He couldn't let Jack cart away the killer before Hannibal had a chance to talk and understand. "I'll figure something out," he promised himself. "If the chance ever arises that I know who it is and where to find them, then Jack doesn't need to know right away. Not until I'm satisfied."

 

"You could get yourself killed."

 

"If he wanted me dead, I'd already be dead," Hannibal said with certainty. "I think he wants to talk too."

 

"You may be right." Will inclined his head in a nod and then drained the last sip of his wine. "But tread carefully."

 

"I will," Hannibal promised before finishing his own glass. The hour was late and the fire in the hearth grew weary. "Shall we go to bed?" he suggested as he stood from his chair, lifting his empty wine glass and moving towards Will to collect his glass to take to the kitchen. It was part of their normal routine for Hannibal to tidy up while Will doused the fire in the hearth and checked the locks on the main floor.

 

When he got close enough Will grasped his forearm, stilling him and drawing his gaze. "You are mine, Hannibal," Will murmured, eyes full of heat and possession.

 

Hannibal bent to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Of course I am, as you are mine."

 

Will turned his head just enough to give a teasing nip to Hannibal's bottom lip, weathering the sensitive flesh between his teeth. Then he stood as well, eyes never straying. "Meet upstairs." Hannibal stole one more kiss and then scooped up Will's wineglass and left at a brisk pace for the kitchen and then the stairs up to the second floor and Will's bedroom. The guest bedroom had long since been forgotten.

 

#

 

Winter was just beginning to thaw into spring. All of the snow had melted and the air didn't hurt Hannibal's face when he was outside, though the ground was still frozen and the buds hadn't yet sprouted on tree branches. It was early in the afternoon and Hannibal was just getting out of his car on campus when his phone rang. He paused in the parking lot and checked his caller ID quickly before answering the call. "Jack."

 

"Hannibal, I need you at Headwaters Park right now, do you know it?" Jack's tone was forced-businesslike but with a hint of stress making his words sound clipped.

 

"I'm not familiar with the route to it," Hannibal admitted. All he knew was that it was a park outside of the downtown core. "But Jack, I'm scheduled for a lecture in twenty minutes."

 

"I'm calling to get a substitute set up for your lecture as soon as this call is done," Jack said. "Get in your car. I'll get Katz to text you the directions now."

 

"But—"

 

" _Now_ , Hannibal," Jack cut him off. "We've found another body from our messenger man," Jack added and then hung up the phone.

 

Hannibal's heart skipped a beat with nerves and anticipation as he got back into his car and buckled up. He slotted his key into the ignition but didn't shift into drive, instead choosing Will's number and bringing his phone back to his ear. Hannibal worried that he would be interrupting one of Will's sessions with a patient, but he answered on the second ring.

 

"Hello Hannibal," Will greeted warmly. "This is a pleasant surprise. Do you not have a class scheduled shortly?"

 

"Are you booked up this afternoon?" Hannibal asked, knowing he was being a bit rude with his shortness but too high-strung to rein himself back in.

 

"Actually no," Will said. Other times Will might have commented on Hannibal's rushed conversation but today he seemed to realize that this was important. "Would you like to come over?"

 

"Jack called me. They found another body with a message for me," Hannibal said as way of explanation. Will was silent on the other end of the phone. "I'm going now and I want you to come with me."

 

For the first time Will sounded a bit hesitant. "I'm not sure Jack would approve of a civilian coming to the crime scene."

 

"You were allowed to come before," Hannibal reminded him. "Jack wouldn't mind; he didn't last time."

 

"I suppose that's true," Will continued to balk. "If you tell me where it is I can drive and meet you there."

 

"I'm already in my car and Beverly is texting me the directions. I can pick you up on the way," Hannibal offered. Truthfully he wanted Will with him to share his thoughts before, during and after seeing the body. He didn't know what to expect but assumed the body would be significant. Each body was a piece in a large puzzle, left specifically for him.

 

At last Will surrendered. "Alright. I'll get my things together and wait for you to arrive."

 

By the time Hannibal hung up he had a text from Beverly with the directions to Headwaters Park. Hannibal shifted gears and drove to Will's office, slightly surprised to find Will standing outside the front door when Hannibal pulled up along the curb and parked. Will approached and got into the passenger seat, unbuttoning his spring jacket.

 

"I didn't have any more appointments for the day. I figured I would close early and send Vanessa home," Will explained as he buckled up and Hannibal merged with the flow of traffic. "Has Jack told you any details yet?"

 

Hannibal shook his head. "Nothing other than the fact that the body was found in Headwaters Park on the edge of town."

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

Hannibal drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled onto the highway. "Curious," he said. "It's been months; why did he wait so long? Why now?"

 

He glanced over to Will quickly and their eyes locked for a moment before Hannibal had to turn back to the road. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

 

When they arrived at Headwaters Park the small parking lot was completely clogged with other vehicles, people in various uniforms milling around. Hannibal parked on the side of the road and he and Will got out of the car, following the crowd through the main forest path further into the park. From a distance Hannibal could see Jack overseeing Katz, Price and Zeller as they stood and crouched in a circle, but he couldn't yet see the body. Hannibal's pace quickened and Will matched him as they approached the swarm of people beyond the strung up police tape.

 

"Hannibal," Jack greeted when he caught sight of them. Though his eyes skimmed over Will at Hannibal's elbow, Jack didn't say anything or send him away. Instead he waved them closer and Hannibal and Will ducked under the police tape as everyone else parted to make room for them.

 

Hannibal moved to stand at the dead man's feet, staring up the length of his body. The man was clothed from the waist down but was bare-chested. And as Hannibal's eyes trailed upward and took in the details left especially for him, Hannibal felt his breath leave him as though he had been punched in the gut.

 

The man himself was unremarkable at first glance; mid-thirties maybe, with a young face but prematurely-greying hair. Hannibal felt certain that this corpse – as the others – had been chosen as a convenient canvas rather than to be the story itself. Hannibal knew this because there were two very important messages waiting for him and that was all Hannibal needed.

 

The man's stomach was carved with one word, each letter cut just deep enough for blood to well up but not mortally wound. That didn't mean Hannibal didn't feel like a knife was slipping past his ribs and twisting as he read the message...

 

 _Goodbye_.

 

Hannibal knew Jack and the others took the message at face value, assuming the killer was on the run. It was obvious by the tense impatience in the air and the way everyone was pacing frantically, feeling like they were falling behind.

 

It wasn't a goodbye though. It was an offering and a plea. ' _Know me, see me, if you will_.' Seeing the word carved into skin took Hannibal back to the night he lay in the motel bed with Will, baring his soul tentatively for the first time. He remembered confessing his nightmare to Will, the image of cutting ' _goodbye_ ' into Will's stomach. Hannibal had never divulged that information to anyone else, and Will had clearly banked on this.

 

There was more than one confession waiting for Hannibal on the body though, which drew his gaze upward. The cause of death was strangulation due to layers of red fishing twine wrapped tightly around the dead man's neck. In the centre of it there was a fishing lure threaded onto the twine to hang in the hollow of the man's throat like a pendent.

 

It was a beautifully crafted lure with blues and teals woven into it using coloured thread holding together the brass bead, hawk feathers and some sort of coarse animal fur. Though Hannibal wasn't an expert on lures, it looked hand-crafted and it was far too easy to imagine Will settled comfortably in an armchair in his study, eyes intent and focused on his creation.

 

It was intentional; all of it was tailored specifically for Hannibal so that no one else would grasp the confession. What had been provided was the thread necessary to sew together all of the puzzle pieces he had already been provided. Will's home of Louisiana, his passion for hunting and fishing, impressively refined skills betraying years of hands-on experience, his unflinching attention when discussing killing and death.

 

Hannibal's eyes slid from the corpse to his right where Will stood a foot from his shoulder. Will's gaze was on Hannibal rather than the corpse – why would Will need to study the tableau he himself had put on display? Will's eyes were open and honest for Hannibal to see, but his posture was slightly guarded from everyone else intruding on the scene that should've only existed between the two of them.

 

In this moment Hannibal held Will's life and future in his hands. Will had probably never been more fragile than he was right now, and he had chosen to give Hannibal this power over him. Hannibal now understood Will's earlier hesitance when Hannibal asked him along to the crime scene. One word and Hannibal could have Will in chains.

 

Will knew this. His unwavering gaze on Hannibal proved it. Just as Hannibal had read Will in the message he had left, Will too was attempting to read Hannibal's thoughts and reaction. Hannibal glanced over his shoulder, beyond the police tape and FBI agents between them and where Hannibal had parked his car. Will mimicked his glance but then looked back to watch Hannibal. Will had already calculated his inability to escape if Hannibal pointed a finger to him, and Will had entrusted this decision with Hannibal.

 

The emotions clashing within Hannibal were confusing and overwhelming; far more powerful than Hannibal was accustomed to weathering. He was furious with Will for the sense of betrayal welling up inside him. Hannibal had been manipulated and played, Will toying with him and digging at the inner workings of his mind. How much had been a lie? How much had been real? Had _any_ of it been real? Hannibal thought that the looks and touches Will shared with him had been genuine, but it was hard to tell. There was a chance that it had all been an act, Hannibal strung up as a plaything until Will's interest waned.

 

Regardless of the sting beneath his skin that thought prompted, Hannibal knew he didn't want to see Will behind bars. Not yet. Not until he had answers to his questions. Hannibal wouldn't be able to ask him questions – the important ones – with Will under surveillance in prison.

 

Hannibal flinched when Jack dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and gripped tightly, indicating his tension and impatience. "What can you tell us? Is he running? Where should we look to catch this son of a bitch before he disappears?"

 

Purposefully Hannibal didn't look to Will again, instead focusing intently on Will's design presented for him. It was disconcerting to know the truth and be considering the possibility of withholding it; he had joined the FBI specifically to catch serial killers like Will who preyed on society. But Hannibal would lose his sanity if he didn't get to talk with Will at least one more time in private.

 

"He's running," Hannibal declared. "Or if he isn't yet, he will be soon."

 

"But _where_?"

 

Hannibal licked his lips, seeking a half-truth that would work. "The fishing twine and lure were clearly left on purpose. He wants me to follow him. Maybe he's heading for the coast."

 

"Will he come after you?" Jack pressed.

 

A surveillance team tracking his every move was the last thing Hannibal needed right now. "No. If I fail to follow him, I won't be considered worth pursuing anymore." Hannibal knew this to be true; Will had entrusted his true nature to Hannibal to judge, and if Will was rejected he would vanish and never allow himself to be found again. The thought didn't sit well with Hannibal, his chest feeling tight.

 

Jack paced around Hannibal for another few minutes, prodding for any more useful facts they could use. Hannibal wavered between truths, lies and silence, trying to lead the FBI in the wrong direction but not too far off course. He suspected Will recognized that Hannibal was still providing useful tidbits. He didn't want Will to feel safe yet; Hannibal's final decision relied heavily on how satisfying Will's answers and explanations would be.

 

At last Hannibal was free to go, Jack's attention diverting to barking out orders to other uniform cops to start heading for the coast. They would interview any local fishing equipment and boating stores about recent purchases, unfamiliar faces, thefts or other suspicious activity. Katz, Price and Zeller continued to circle the corpse in search of fingerprints or other DNA traces that Will surely would have wiped away long before the FBI's arrival.

 

Too soon Hannibal was standing alone with Will, the air between them thick and suffocating. Will was still watching him intently, reading any hints Hannibal's body or face betrayed. Hannibal didn't know what to say, because everything swirling in his head couldn't be spoken aloud here, so he merely motioned a hand towards the forest path. Will led the way with Hannibal trailing a step behind, always making certain that Will was within sight.

 

Will didn't balk before sliding into the passenger seat, Hannibal moving behind the driver's wheel. His questions sat heavy and impatient on his tongue but Hannibal forced himself to focus on starting the ignition and beginning the voyage back into town. "We can go to my house," Will offered. Hannibal ignored the suggestion with a wall of silence. There was no way he would knowingly take Will back to his house and car; Hannibal didn't know what weapons or traps Will might have waiting.

 

"We're going to my place," Hannibal stated. Will didn't argue.

 

Hannibal parked the car in the underground parking lot of his apartment building and the two of them took the elevator up to Hannibal's floor in continued silence. Will allowed Hannibal to lock the apartment door behind them, no doubt noticing that Hannibal strategically positioned himself between Will and both the door and knives in the kitchen.

 

They stood facing each other, gazes intent. Will appeared relaxed but Hannibal could read the tension at the corner of his mouth and eyes. "I'll answer any questions you have," Will said, falsely calm.

 

"Why?" was Hannibal's first question. Will raised an eyebrow, wordlessly demanding that he be more specific. "Why are you willing to trust me with... all of this?"

 

Will shifted his weight ever so slightly. "I think it will be worth the risk."

 

Hannibal pursed his lips and tried to organize the order of the other questions he wanted – _needed_ to ask. "That man in the alley; you set me up to kill him." Will nodded. "You wanted to make me more like you?"

 

"I wanted you to be more like _you_ ," Will corrected. "The part of you that has been smothered by society's rules and fickle expectations. I wanted you to embrace that side of you and the way it could make you feel."

 

"This couldn't have been chance," Hannibal reasoned, momentarily avoiding commenting on Will's words.

 

"Of course not," Will agreed. "I read about you and I was intrigued. I had grown bored of my life in Louisiana and sought you out. Spending a year settling into position but keeping my distance was a test of patience but worth it when you first walked into my office."

 

Hannibal struggled to accept the realization that Will had been weaving his web long before Hannibal was even aware of Will's existence. Well, he had known of the Louisiana Lure, but no one – until now – had known his identity. Hannibal felt equally honoured and burdened from being handed that truth. "What am I to you?" he demanded. His assumptions sat bitter on his tongue. _Toy. Plaything._

 

"You are my partner," Will declared seriously, not a flicker of uncertainty or jest crossing his stoic face. "Whether you accept me as your partner in return remains with you, but there is no doubt in my mind." Will studied Hannibal's face closely but remained still. "Does my answer surprise you?"

 

"I had wondered if it was all an act or an experiment," Hannibal admitted his insecurities. "What value could I possibly provide?"

 

At last Will took one step closer and tension mounted. Though Hannibal wavered, he didn't back down. There were a few feet of space between them and even though Hannibal was grateful for the physical distance while he absorbed all this new information, he still felt the urge to step forward and close the space between them. "Do you need me to tell you?" Will asked when he was certain that Hannibal wouldn't flee.

 

"Yes."

 

"I tracked you down because I thought you would provide an interesting puzzle and challenge," Will began. Hannibal ignored the clench in his chest at those words. "When I watched you work on the tableaus I designed and left for you and you started sharing your thoughts with me, I knew you were unique like me."

 

"Others can do and discover what I have done," Hannibal argued. "Countless people share nightmares as bad, or worse, than mine."

 

"You consistently undervalue yourself," Will accused, though his tone was understanding. "You have allowed society to convince you that your primal instincts are wrong and that you are a monster for feeling them, but I know otherwise. You are a beautiful being, Hannibal, and my equal."

 

"An equal you kept in the dark for _months_." That fact still stung.

 

"Can you blame me?" Will questioned, and Hannibal was forced to shake his head. It would have been suicide for Will to tell Hannibal the whole truth earlier – even now Will had still put himself at significant risk. "I had my hopes but it wasn't until you killed that man for me and cut him up that I was certain."

 

Hannibal pinched the bridge of his nose, conflicting emotions worsening the headache behind his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

 

"Your trust," Will said openly. "And your companionship."

 

"Hefty requests," Hannibal scoffed and looked away, reigning in his bubbling anger. He tried to visualize what Will was asking for, and couldn't explain why it was still so easy. But there was still more he had to know and understand. "How many people have you killed?"

 

Will looked thoughtful for a long moment. Hannibal could read the numbers tallying up in Will's briefly-glassy eyes. "It would take me a while to confirm exact numbers but more than a few hundred."

 

Hannibal swallowed that number; it was more than the articles and books had ever estimated as the kill count for the Louisiana Lure before his disappearance. "Did they all deserve it?"

 

"No." Will's face remained blank. "Some, but not all. There's something else you're pondering," Will added, able to read Hannibal far too well.

 

Hannibal shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I read so many articles about the Louisiana Lure – about _you_ ," he amended. "They were riddled with countless speculations. But there was always one that I was surprised they never considered." Will didn't make it any easier, standing silently and waiting for Hannibal to voice his fears. "Did you cannibalize them?"

 

"Some," Will answered. Hannibal closed his eyes as bile crawled up his throat, but then he had to open his eyes again. His imagination was cruel and happy to conjure up grotesque mental images. "My father taught me the importance of not wasting any part of the animal when I was young."

 

"Who gets wasted?" Hannibal asked with morbid curiosity. Hearing Will call his kills 'animals' didn't shock Hannibal; the more he heard the more things made sense and the more desensitized Hannibal became.

 

"The scum I wouldn't subject my palate to," Will explained. "Or, in the cases like the corpses I've left for you to study, when circumstances require that I leave the body in tact to avoid giving myself away."

 

"How do you choose them?"

 

"You are very curious," Will observed with a small, knowing smirk.

 

"It's my job," Hannibal threw back and Will's smile immediately dropped at the reminder that Hannibal could still turn him in. Hannibal hated Will a tiny bit when he felt no satisfaction from taking away Will's smugness.

 

"When I was younger I was less selective but over the years I have refined my tastes to those who no longer deserve to live. Though I will choose based on convenience or purpose if I am leaving them to be found for a specific reason." Will never looked away. "As you surmised when studying my design, I am pleased to say."

 

Hannibal said nothing because he felt that everything he wanted to say was inappropriate. He was guiltily elated that he had made Will happy and proud by reading Will's crime scenes accurately. Silence swelled between them again and Hannibal forced himself to ask, even though he was scared of the answer, "What happens now?"

 

"That depends entirely on you."

 

The weight of that truth was almost debilitating. Hannibal could turn Will in to the FBI, or try; Will might kill him if Hannibal reached for his phone now. If Will did get captured before he managed to slip away into the shadows he would be sentenced to prison for life or possibly even kept separate to be observed and tested. Essentially Will would become a lab rat. He would never feel a fresh breeze on his skin or in his hair, nor feel his toes curling in grass, dirt or stream. Hannibal could choose that life for Will.

 

He could let Will go. Turn a blind eye and allow Will to leave the room and vanish like mist under the rising sun. Hannibal would never see Will again, never be able to share his thoughts with a man who not only refrained from judgement but truly understood and cherished the intrinsic truth of Hannibal's self. No one had ever listened to or accepted Hannibal the way Will had, and no one ever would again. They were too different – too similar.

 

Hannibal could also accept Will in return, arms outstretched to pull their bodies and beating hearts together as one. And then what would happen? Would they run together and start a new life or stay in Baltimore, lock in deeper roots and adapt? Would that new beginning consist of wind sighing through tree leaves or the last breath sighed from the lips of their shared kills? Would they give up their natures for something new, find a sustainable balance, or would they shatter one another's limits and push themselves collectively towards the edge of something they never dared to consider?

 

Did it matter, if they were there together?

 

In an instant Hannibal reached for his pocket and removed the small switchblade he had become prone to carrying since the night when he killed Jason for attacking Will. He saw the way Will flinched, every powerful muscle in his body corded in preparation. _Fight or flight_. Hannibal released the three inch long blade and strode towards Will, closing the gap that had stretched between them for too long. Will tensed further but even when Hannibal was standing directly in front of him, blade hovering near Will's exposed wrist, Will kept their eyes locked.

 

"You wanted me," Hannibal reminded Will before he pressed the handle of the blade into Will's palm. "And now you have me. So take me."

 

Will's fingers curled around the handle and Hannibal's hand together, squeezing tight enough for pain to flicker up Hannibal's forearm. His eyes were steel on fire when Will said, "I will never harm you, Hannibal."

 

Somehow Hannibal knew. He recognized the thrilling dichotomy of the way Will perceived the value of other lives compared to the life and wellbeing of Hannibal. There was no one Will treasured or craved more obsessively, Hannibal was sure. "I know."

 

Will raised the blade and held it against Hannibal's throat for a moment before he circled, slow and teasing as the blade ghosted along the flesh of Hannibal's neck. When Will stood behind him, Hannibal felt the cold metal of the blade nick the back of his neck as it rested on his skin. "Unless you want me to," Will hummed. "How shall I take you, Hannibal?"

 

"However it pleases you." Hannibal shivered, but not from fear.

 

Hannibal grunted when a swift kick to the back of his legs caused his knees to buckle. Hannibal tumbled to the carpeted floor, catching his weight to avoid any damage. Will pursued him and rolled Hannibal onto his back before straddling his waist. One of Will's hands pressed Hannibal's shoulder into the floor while his other returned the blade to Hannibal's neck, Will leaning over Hannibal's body enough to study his face. "One final test."

 

"You could say that," Hannibal smirked.

 

The knife trailed down and cut the first threads of Hannibal's shirt. When no complaint was voiced, Will made quick work of cutting open Hannibal's shirt from his chest and arms, exposing vulnerable flesh. The blade hovered but it was Will's teeth that bit into skin, causing Hannibal to arch off the floor and gasp in both pain and arousal. Will sunk his teeth into the fleshiest parts of Hannibal's arms, shoulders, chest and stomach, leaving angry red marks behind but not drawing blood.

 

Hannibal squirmed and groaned openly as he felt his erection swell against the zipper of his pants. He knew each bite would sting when fabric brushed against them for the next few days, and after a few minutes he threaded his fingers into Will's hair and tugged his head upward. Will glanced up the length of Hannibal's torso and then followed the prompt, being led willingly to Hannibal's neck. "People will ask questions," Will reminded Hannibal even as he began to mouth teasingly at Hannibal's throat.

 

"Let them."

 

It was the right answer, and Will bit hard into the column of his neck. The pain was enough to have Hannibal gasping, his heart skipping beats. It sensed a threat but Hannibal could only pull Will closer against his body. Just as Hannibal's eyes began to bead with tears, skin on the verge of tearing, Will's teeth withdrew and were replaced by the soothing warmth of Will's tongue lapping the traumatized skin. Hannibal moaned and slipped his hands under the hem of Will's shirt to explore the skin of Will's back.

 

"I like when you're vocal for me," Will praised before pressing a light kiss to Hannibal's lips.

 

"I know," Hannibal said and reeled him in for a deeper, lingering kiss.

 

Will indulged Hannibal and kissed him long and hard enough that Hannibal felt dizzy from oxygen deprivation, his head pounding. Only when Will chose did Hannibal breathe – needy gulps of air. While Hannibal was distracted chasing away the darkness from the edges of his vision, Will shuffled down to undo Hannibal's belt and pants and free him from the rest of his clothing. At the same time Will quickly discarded his own clothes and then rifled through Hannibal's bedside table until he found lube.

 

Hannibal would've moved if Will gave him an order, but Will was the sort to enjoy flipping Hannibal onto his stomach with his own hands. With Will's hints Hannibal knew enough to rise onto his knees and forearms, body exposed and on display. The lube was placed on the ground but the knife never left Will's grasp, and Hannibal felt the chill of metal against the base of his spine and over the swell of his ass. It was the flat of the blade, but it wasn't exactly reassuring when Hannibal knew how easy it would be for Will to slice deep enough to cut bone.

 

When the knife left Hannibal's skin he keened, and he couldn't entirely say it wasn't in protest. Though Hannibal couldn't see, he imagined Will setting aside the knife and squirting lube onto his fingers after uncapping the tube. Hannibal was anticipating fingers so when he felt the knife's hilt nudging against his hole, Hannibal flinched away. One of Will's hands gripped Hannibal's hip tightly enough to bruise as Will held him in place. The blade must've been slotted back in place judging by the way Will must be holding it with his other hand, slowly pushing the lubed hilt against Hannibal's ass.

 

Still anxious, Hannibal remained clenched and Will growled. "You will take this for me. Breathe."

 

Hannibal was staring wide-eyed at the carpet below him. He forced himself to take a deep breath in and out. Will had trusted Hannibal completely in sharing his true nature. He wanted to see if Hannibal was willing to return that trust. Will gave him the time to breathe in and out a few times before he tried again, and this time the hilt sank past the ring of muscles and into Hannibal's ass. The blade's handle wasn't as thick as Will's cock but the idea of it was still a little overwhelming, especially when Hannibal could feel the metal hilt rubbing against his insides.

 

Will continued to push with it until the crossguard caught against Hannibal's ass and the hilt would sink no further. "All for me," Will purred when he began to fuck Hannibal with the hilt, changing the angle on each thrust until the blunt base of the hilt nudged Hannibal's prostate and sent a spasm through his body. Will maintained that angle as he continued to thrust the hilt in and out and all Hannibal could do was keep his trembling legs from giving out as he listened to the slick, wet sounds of the metal moving in and out of his body.

 

Hannibal was hard and throbbing between his legs but he didn't dare move a hand to stroke himself. He took everything Will gave him and endured the building agony of his need to come. Hannibal panted his praises for how good he felt, and eventually his impatience at wanting to have Will inside him. Will ignored his words and continued to fuck him with even strokes until Hannibal broke and tried to move away. Immediately Will pinned him flat to the carpet and jerked the hilt so deep that the crossguard left dented grooves in Hannibal's skin, causing Hannibal to shout – all pain, no pleasure with the punishment.

 

Will held the hilt in place like that until Hannibal whimpered and stilled, Hannibal feeling like he was skewered on a spit and ready to be devoured. Only then did Will remove the hilt fully and set it aside on the ground. The air was knocked from Hannibal's lungs when he was rolled onto his back, Will looming above him with dark, hungry eyes. Hannibal watched as Will coated his fingers in lube and stroked it over his cock. He spread his legs further when Will nudged his knees and shuffled close enough that the head of his cock rubbed the abused skin around Hannibal's hole.

 

Hannibal hissed in discomfort and Will momentarily withdrew, fingers patient and gentle when they pried open Hannibal's ass and massaged his sore skin, soothing him. Hannibal wasn't sure how to word his question but Will answered it silently when he leaned over Hannibal and kissed him softly. Emotions threatened to choke Hannibal as he kissed Will back, the locking of their lips affectionate and caring the way the rest of their coupling hadn't been. Will's fingers continued to move inside him with shallow thrusts but now Hannibal was moaning again, aching with pleasure and heat.

 

Only when his desperation became unbearable did Hannibal turn his face to the side, breaking the kiss. Hannibal pressed another kiss to the corner of Will's mouth as he said, "Now, Will."

 

Will nodded and knelt between Hannibal's legs again, lining his cock up and pushing in with ease as Hannibal's body accepted him. It felt so good to be stretched wider by Will's girth, Hannibal full and claimed. The moment of gentleness was over and Hannibal received no adjustment time before Will began to hammer his prostate over and over. Hiccupped gasps escaped Hannibal and he winced as he felt his back sting with carpet burn but he would never ask Will to slow down or avoid fucking him hard enough that Hannibal's body slid across the floor and Will had to drag him back for the next thrust.

 

Hannibal bent his knees to angle his body upward and groaned immediately when Will's next thrust had the head of his cock slamming against Hannibal's prostate. Hannibal reached up to pull Will closer, who obliged by bracing his hands on the ground and framing Hannibal in. Hannibal's nails scored the skin of Will's shoulders, biceps and upper back, the sharp pain egging Will on as he leaned more fully over Hannibal's body.

 

There was no way either of them could last long, Will's pace and the force behind each thrust unsustainable. Hannibal yanked Will closer and Will lowered himself onto his forearms, panting his exhales across the sweaty skin of Hannibal's neck and face. Hannibal's body continued to rock against the carpet, his fingers now bruising Will's lower back where he could reach. Will's mouth sealed over Hannibal's own and started to fuck Hannibal's mouth with his tongue in time with the demanding strokes of his cock.

 

All Hannibal could do was twine their tongues together as his body shuddered, climax building rapidly at the base of his spine. Will was relentless and refused to break the kiss, even when Hannibal tried to turn away. Hannibal could only moan his warning into Will's mouth as his heels dug into the carpet, allowing his back to arch and meet each thrust. Hannibal did not require a hand to his erection to come with a shout, body spasming and clenching tightly around Will's moving length.

 

It was enough for Will, who bit Hannibal's bottom lip and spilled his come inside Hannibal's ass until he was filled to the brim. Still they continued to rock weakly, both of them shaking and gulping down air. Once Will's orgasm had ceased, Hannibal felt him thrust in and out shallowly a few times, fucking his seed deeper into Hannibal's body where it would remain until gravity caused it to trickle down his thighs.

 

Will collapsed half on top of Hannibal and they lay there on the carpet together, panting and trembling. " _Fuck_ ," Will huffed at one point and Hannibal could only nod in agreement. His entire body hurt and yet he had never felt more satiated and content in his life.

 

When their bodies and breathing had calmed Will found Hannibal's lips again, kissing him for a long time before tucking his face into the crook of Hannibal's neck. This was what Hannibal had hoped for, and had craved when he handed control of their coupling over to Will. He wanted proof of Will's animalistic desire to connect with and claim him, their bodies tied together in the most intimate way. But he also wanted this warmer affection of a cherished mate as Will held him close.

 

Hannibal didn't want to move, but it was only a matter of time until the air in the room chilled the drying sweat on their skin. Will began to shiver first but Hannibal's hands stroking his back and arms weren't enough to keep him warm for long. "Bed," Hannibal suggested, but didn't move until Will moved off him fully. Even when he moved slowly Hannibal still winced, body sore and abused. It was Will who pulled Hannibal to his feet, steadied him and then nudged Hannibal onto the mattress before following after him.

 

In the cocoon of warm sheets Hannibal relaxed, even though the bites on his front and the rug burn on his back stung. Will distracted him with open-mouthed kisses across Hannibal's skin until Hannibal felt his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. "We still need to figure out what we're going to do next," Hannibal argued weakly.

 

"Sleep," Will soothed with feather-light lips and fingers, Hannibal already drifting off. "The future will come."


	14. Chapter 14

Will watched Hannibal slip into the passenger seat beside him and do up his seatbelt with a decisive _click_. "Are you ready?"

 

Hannibal looked over at him and his eyes lingered. Will knew why; his jeans and shirt were tight, his shirt collar open to the second button and his hair swept back in a show of rebellious youth. "If you are." Will didn't ask again and shifted gears to drive away from the curb and towards one of the main roads heading further uptown. It was late summer, the air sticky and heavy with humidity but Hannibal and Will rolled the windows down to feel the wind in their hair.

 

They had taken their time sorting out all of the changes they were going through together. Their relationship had remained tentative until a few weeks after Will's reveal when Hannibal requested that Will take him hunting again. There wasn't much that hunters were allowed to shoot in the springtime except turkeys but Will took Hannibal out to the forest without argument.

 

Hannibal didn't balk when a turkey crossed their path, his finger ready on the trigger. At Hannibal's suggestion, Will fucked Hannibal against a tree afterwards, their pants around their ankles, and then they took the carcass home to prep and cook for an extravagant dinner. Will could tell Hannibal felt the urge to explore his darker instincts further now that he had accepted them after denying them for so long. Killing innocent animals didn't satisfy these urges but Will held back, allowing Hannibal to find his own path in his own time.

 

A few weeks ago Hannibal had come to Will, and Will could tell by his eyes that Hannibal had found his path. "This one," Hannibal stated when he handed Will a sheet of paper with a photo of a person and facts on it.

 

Will looked the sheet over and then back at Hannibal who had moved to lean against the edge of Will's office desk. "Alright," Will agreed with a smile. Will wasn't as picky about his prey as Hannibal was, so he was happy catering to Hannibal's needs and desires. Hannibal had chosen criminals to be their targets and Will was content to hunt the prey his mate chose as long as they hunted together.

 

That brought them here as Will parked the car in a poorly-lit parking lot behind a shady club. Will unclipped his seatbelt and pulled the key from the ignition. Hannibal didn't move and Will waited until Hannibal spoke. "Are you sure you're alright with this?"

 

Will kept the impatience from his expression, remembering that Hannibal was new to this and reminding himself that it _was_ nice to know someone was genuinely concerned about his wellbeing even though Will was more than capable of taking care of himself. "I assure you that I have no concerns with the plan or my role in it. In fact, I'm rather turned on with you setting the plan and telling me what to do."

 

At those words Hannibal unclipped his own seatbelt and leaned across the gearshift to catch Will's lips in a hungry kiss. Nothing turned Will on more than the way Hannibal got when he gave in to these urges. "I want you to fuck me when we're home," Hannibal said against Will's lips.

 

"You can count on that," Will promised with a predatory smile. He nipped Hannibal's bottom lip hard enough for it to swell slightly from the abuse. "Ready when you are."

 

Hannibal kissed Will one last time and then nodded. "I'll follow you in."

 

Will exited the car and headed to the street to enter the club. Smoke and noise assaulted Will's senses beyond the doorframe, his eyes straining to take in details through the dim, flickering lights. He made a slow circle until he spotted their target in a booth near the back wall alongside the bar set in the corner and slightly away from the pulsing dance floor.

 

He ordered a double scotch on the rocks and slid onto the closest bar stool to the back of the room. Will slouched enough for his ass to swell over the edge of the stool on obvious display, his waistband hanging low and tempting. Out of the corner of his eye Will noticed Hannibal entering the room and choosing a stool halfway down the row, collecting his own drink from the bartender.

 

Will kept his gaze on his glass as he took a deep gulp. He turned partway to the side to view the dance floor writhing with grinding bodies and spread his legs wide, flashing his target a smile when Will caught the man eyeing his crotch. Will remained exactly where he was for the man's viewing pleasure and gulped down the rest of his drink, knowing the target would see the way Will's throat constricted as he swallowed.

 

The target was a man in his early forties, though age had not been kind to him. The man already had thinning hair he was struggling to hide, wrinkles creasing his face and neck, and a heavy potbelly. He was short with stubby legs and all his weight around the middle. His name was Trevor Barter and had inherited a healthy sum of money from family, which was the only reason he was here eyeing Will up instead of wasting away in jail.

 

Multiple times Trevor had been arrested on suspicion in the murders of young gay men but each time he either got off on a technicality or with a strategic opening of his purse strings. It was one of the cases where legal authorities knew exactly what sort of monster Trevor was but their hands were tied and they could do nothing about it. That meant that Trevor continued to target young men, especially those who lived and worked on the streets with no one at home to note their absence. The first few victims were found but after a few brushes with the law, Trevor started to become more skilled at disposing of the bodies once he was done with them.

 

A large, sweaty hand touched Will's lower back with fingers caressing his ass and Will held in his shiver of disgust. He glanced up to meet Trevor's hungry gaze and offered another smile, tilting his head to expose the smooth expanse of his neck. "Can I buy you a drink?"

 

"You may," Will agreed and let himself be sent to the booth by a strong nudge from Trevor's hand on his back.

 

He pretended to not notice Trevor slipping something into one of the drinks before leaving the bar and returning to sit across from Will in the booth. Will accepted the drink and faked taking a sip, a moment later subtly wiping the drugged alcohol from his lips with the back of his hand. Trevor wasn't the sharpest tool, likely already a few drinks in judging by the reek of alcohol on his breath as he asked for Will's name and what he was looking for that night.

 

Will indulged him and played the part as much as was necessary, but wasn't surprised when Trevor quickly shifted conversation to the topic of heading elsewhere for 'some fun'. After all, Trevor's goal for the evening wasn't a long pleasant chat with a stranger, and truthfully, that wasn't Will or Hannibal's goal either. So Will leaned forward instead of backwards when Trevor's fingers tugged open another button on Will's shirt and traced his collarbone. He wondered briefly what Hannibal's expression looked like in that moment but wouldn't risk ruining the plan to indulge and look.

 

Trevor paid the tab and Will lingered near him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Hannibal paid his own tab and left the club ahead of them. Trevor gripped Will's hip tightly and led him outside the smoky club next, leading him through the alley towards the club's parking lot. The lot appeared empty, though Will doubted Trevor would've cared about onlookers anyway when he shoved Will backwards against the trunk of a car and pushed a hand against the front of Will's jeans. "What's the problem, cocksucker?" Trevor squeezed Will through his pants and Will winced at the rough pain. "You were begging for this with that slutty outfit of yours." Trevor squeezed him one more time, slapped him hard across the face and then spun Will to bend him over the car, Will having to blink away dizziness after his temple struck cold metal and from the slap. "Don't worry, you'll be screaming my name before long."

 

It took all of Will's restraint to let Trevor yank his arms behind his back and bruise Will's wrists with brutal force. His instincts to fight were howling for blood, to make this filth suffer and beg for mercy. But it was not Will that Trevor would have to beg to. Will only had to let Trevor fumble with the belt of his jeans for a few long seconds before he heard the man's breathing suddenly get choked off. Trevor let go of Will who stumbled away and smoothed out his clothes before turning to watch Hannibal in action.

 

Trevor had a lot of weight to throw around but Hannibal was taller, stronger, and filled with a lot more fury. Once Will had slipped away it was easy for Hannibal to pin Trevor to the trunk of the car in Will's place, hands seemingly massive around Trevor's neck. Will edged closer, just out of range of Trevor's frantic, scrabbling hands, and studied the indents Hannibal's fingers dug into Trevor's neck. It was a gorgeous sight to watch the way Hannibal's hands trembled but never faltered, and it had Will's cock swelling the way Trevor's attempt never would've.

 

It didn't take long before Trevor stopped trying to fight back or get away, and only a few seconds longer before he blacked out and slumped to the pavement. Hannibal let him fall, unconcerned when their target's head smacked concrete. Will did another quick sweep to confirm there were no onlookers and then helped Hannibal carry Trevor down the row to Will's car, pushing Trevor into the back seat. He left Hannibal in the back to tie Trevor's hands and feet and moved to the driver's seat to take them back to Will's house.

 

Trevor regained consciousness just as Will pulled into his garage and shut off the car, though the cloth Hannibal had shoved into Trevor's mouth muted any screams. With his hands and feet bound it was easy for Will and Hannibal to carry Trevor into the house and drop him on the kitchen floor. Will had offered his house to Hannibal with no concern of the cleanup afterward. He wanted to make sure that Hannibal was somewhere safe and secure when he did this so that Hannibal didn't feel rushed.

 

Trevor was still trying to spit threats or insults or both at them but Hannibal momentarily ignored his target and instead approached Will who had moved to lean against his kitchen island. Will knew he was probably bruised; he could already feel the tenderness of his skin and saw the way Hannibal's eyes lingered on the exposed skin of his face and wrists. Will accepted Hannibal with open arms when Hannibal moved close enough, and he ignored the sting of his split lip to return Hannibal's kiss heatedly.

 

Though he was more than half hard in his pants and felt the growing urge to take Hannibal upstairs to bed, Will forced himself to let Hannibal go when he pulled away. He continued to watch from the island as Hannibal selected one of Will's butcher knives from the block on the kitchen counter and approached Trevor slowly. At last Trevor realized the true danger he was in and tried to squirm away but it was far too late for that.

 

Hannibal rested a foot over Trevor's ankle and stepped down with his weight. Will smiled at the sound of bones snapping mixed with Trevor's muffled scream. He hadn't told Hannibal what to do or how to do it; this was Hannibal's kill and Will was merely a privileged observer. In the brief moment when Trevor's pain stilled his movements, Hannibal sat on his legs to pin them and held the knife where the blade glinted with the kitchen lights above them.

 

"You're a foolish man, Trevor," Hannibal accused. The use of his name caught Trevor's attention and his fearful, wide eyes. "I was going to kill you anyway as punishment for killing all those boys," Hannibal informed Trevor quietly. As he spoke he took the knife to the front of Trevor's shirt and slowly cut the fabric up the centre until it fell open to expose the man's hairy chest and belly. "For raping them and disposing of them afterwards like they were trash." The tip of the blade nicked a groove of skin from Trevor's throat with purpose. "For saying it was their sexuality that was the problem, and not yourself."

 

Will wondered briefly how close Trevor's shoulders were to dislocating, and how much pain Trevor felt from the way they were pulled behind his back as he lay on his own bound hands. He hoped there was a lot of pain even though it didn't matter since he knew far more pain was about to rain down on Trevor from Hannibal's hands. "I was going to kill you, but it wasn't going to last long," Hannibal continued speaking to Trevor, who didn't dare look away. "But you hurt my partner, and for that you will truly suffer."

 

It started when Hannibal grabbed Trevor's chin to hold his head against the floor and sliced the blade through Trevor's bottom lip to mimic Will's split lip from the slap, though much deeper. Blood welled up and spilled to the floor in time with the frightened tears from Trevor's eyes, both of which Hannibal ignored. Will found his curiosity spiking when Hannibal skirted Trevor's exposed neck and instead dug the knife into Trevor's left shoulder, though he felt no desire to question or direct Hannibal's focus.

 

Understanding came to Will minutes later when he realized that Hannibal was severing tendons and muscles first on one shoulder and then the other. Trevor was a sobbing mess and blood was pooling on the kitchen tile but Hannibal barely blinked. In fact, as Hannibal continued to work and carve out his design, a pleased smile slowly curled his lips. They were in no rush but Will only had so much restraint, and just once he gave in long enough to grind the heel of his palm against his erection and feel his toes curl in his shoes.

 

Hannibal paused to watch, eyes hungry, and only turned back to Trevor when Will stopped. When Hannibal was finished with the damage he had done to Trevor's shoulders, Hannibal pulled Trevor's torso a few inches up off the floor to reach behind and cut the rope binding his wrists. With the severed tendons in Trevor's shoulders, Hannibal took charge in moving Trevor's arms to rest at his sides, hands palm down and fingers splayed.

 

Trevor's fingers were the next to go, one by one cut just above the base. Hannibal took his time using his weight behind the blade to cut through bone until Trevor's fingers and thumbs were lined up in a neat row beside his right elbow. The fingers that were responsible for bruising Will's wrists and slamming him down against the car.

 

Once that task was complete and Hannibal was satisfied, he began tracing designs an inch deep into the quivering skin of Trevor's belly. Hannibal counted each of Trevor's ribs like notches to a wooden post, and then without warning slid the blade between two ribs. Will knew immediately that Hannibal had pierced one of Trevor's lungs by the way Trevor's breathing changed, and knew Trevor didn't have much longer to live when Hannibal repeated the damage to the opposite lung.

 

Hannibal removed the cloth from Trevor's bleeding mouth but Trevor could only fight for air, no screams or pleas for help escaping. Trevor only lay there, weeping and squirming weakly as Hannibal returned to the task of cutting into his torso. Will could tell that Hannibal's anger was abating, satiated with each gasp for oxygen Trevor offered. He was merely passing the time now, inflicting a constant pain to accompany Trevor until his life winked out of existence.

 

As Trevor's breathing grew increasingly laboured, Hannibal slotted the knife between Trevor's ribs and into his heart. The blade sank in as easily as if it had been made to be there, handle resting against skin. Trevor's eyes had gone wide and Hannibal leaned over him, their gazes locked. Will watched Hannibal watch Trevor's eyes dim and eventually go blank and unseeing as his chest gave up the fight of continuing to drag in breath.

 

Hannibal sat there for a long minute and Will didn't approach, merely watched. Blood continued to pool out around Trevor's dead body, haloing the tableau of Hannibal's design and soaking the legs of Hannibal's pants. Only when Hannibal stood on shaking legs did Will move closer, slowly at first to respect the predator still lurking beneath Hannibal's bloodstained skin.

 

It was clear that Hannibal had no interest in tentativeness at this point and pulled Will into a passionate kiss, hands smearing blood into Will's hair without either of them caring. The metallic taste of blood filled Will's mouth when his lip split open again and he let Hannibal lap the blood from his chin before Will gripped Hannibal's hips and dragged their crotches together. Hannibal moaned and bucked back against Will, erection not taking long to tent his pants now that he was pressed against Will instead of Trevor.

 

Will planned to take Hannibal upstairs and fuck him raw but he had one question first. "Let me cut him up for us."

 

Hannibal paused long enough to look at Trevor's corpse and the blood before looking back at Will. He knew that Will was not merely asking to cut Trevor up into tiny pieces for disposal, but to prepare and cook Trevor into a celebratory feast. Hannibal had still been extremely hesitant about the idea of cannibalizing kills and Will hadn't pushed, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

 

Eventually Hannibal nodded and Will felt a leap of excitement. He didn't get a chance to take action though because Hannibal kissed him again, softer this time and needy before he whispered in Will's ear, "Later."

 

"Definitely later," Will promised and kissed Hannibal deeply and with adoration. While they kissed in the middle of the kitchen Will's hands worked on undoing Hannibal's belt and pushing his pants and underwear down enough that gravity stole them the rest of the way until they pooled around Hannibal's ankles. The kiss wasn't broken as Hannibal stepped out of his shoes and kicked away his pants and underwear, and Will smeared the blood on his palms from handling Hannibal's pants onto Hannibal's cheek and neck needlessly.

 

Hannibal worked on undoing and throwing away his own shirt while Will pulled at his own. They broke apart for air and Will's hands unclasped the button of his jeans, wiggling out of the incredibly tight fabric and kicking away his own shoes. He let Hannibal watch and gave him a hungry smirk as he placed a hand on Hannibal's shoulder and gave a telling push downward. Hannibal sunk to his knees without a word and took Will into his mouth, deep throating him while his nails dug into the sensitive skin of Will's hips. Will knotted his fingers into Hannibal's hair and fucked his mouth while Hannibal sucked around his length. Neither of them paid attention to the blood they were standing and kneeling in.

 

It would've been easy for Will to use Hannibal's mouth and paint his tongue white but Will was going to claim Hannibal the way he had promised, and the way they both wanted. Will was achingly hard and when he felt the first warning tightness at the base of his spine he pulled Hannibal away by his hair. Hannibal stood and Will kissed him again, exploring Hannibal's mouth for his own taste curiously with his tongue. He stroked a hand along Hannibal's cock a few times to tease and then began walking them both towards the stairs.

 

"What about the blood?" Hannibal asked when they reached the edge of the bed.

 

It was a pointless question since they had already left bloody footprints up the stairs and down the hall, but Will appreciated the courtesy all the same. "The blood of your kill will stain our sheets," Will proclaimed proudly, and let Hannibal lean in to mouth at his neck for a few moments before nudging him onto the mattress.

 

With the duvet thrown back, Trevor's blood bloomed on the white bed sheets when Hannibal moved onto the bed and lay down. Will briefly stepped into the ensuite bathroom to wash his hands, unwilling to risk any infection with Hannibal. Then he grabbed lube from the bedside table and joined Hannibal on the bed, their bodies aligned and cocks rubbing together while Will dragged Hannibal into another kiss that had them both breathless.

 

He sat back on his knees over Hannibal as he coated his fingers in lube, and bit mouth-shaped bruises into the shape of Hannibal's hips and inner thighs. "You did so well," Will praised. "I've never met a being as beautiful as you." His first finger circled Hannibal's hole and Hannibal spread his legs invitingly. It hadn't been long since their last coupling and Hannibal easily took the first finger, not waiting long before begging Will for the second to feel the first hint of a stretch.

 

Will gave it to him and almost immediately stretched his fingers, knowing that in the haze of his bloodlust Hannibal wanted the burn of going a little too fast. Will fucked Hannibal with two fingers and then three, slick wet sounds filling the room paired with Hannibal's moans while Will continued to leave his marks across the canvas of his partner's body.

 

Before Hannibal asked for it, Will withdrew his fingers and reached for more lube. He stroked it onto his aching cock as he studied the expanse of Hannibal's body sprawled on the bed for him. Will took in the blood smeared on Hannibal's legs, knees and hands, and where Will had coated his face and neck. He watched the quick rise and fall of Hannibal's chest as his desire set a frantic pace for his heart and breathing. And Will greedily gazed upon Hannibal's face, knowing that no one else still alive had ever seen the primal energy filling Hannibal's eyes like fire.

 

He knew that the fire had always been within Hannibal but smothered until Will had offered a hand and Hannibal had accepted it. It was hard for Will to tear his eyes away and so he didn't, keeping their gaze locked as he lined up and sank his cock fully into Hannibal's waiting, welcoming body. He found Hannibal's prostate on the first thrust and Hannibal's eyelashes fluttered but Will gripped his chin tightly enough to keep Hannibal from looking away.

 

"You will not look away," he told Hannibal as he drew his hips back and thrust in again.

 

A huffed gasp escaped Hannibal but he only nodded, barely even blinked. Will let go of Hannibal's face because he knew Hannibal would follow the order and instead settled his weight on both hands while picking up a slow but hard rhythm. Hannibal's hands traveled Will's body, caressing the corded muscles of his biceps, shoulders and upper back. He continued to stare up at Will as he keened and groaned his approval each time Will hit his prostate, the strength of his thrusts making the bed frame shake.

 

Though the thought of other positions tempted Will's mind, he knew that he wanted to watch Hannibal's bloodstained face when he came. Will noticed Hannibal sliding one hand down to grip himself but Will batted his hand away. Hannibal kept his promise and never looked away but his expression was imploring, his eyes desperate. "Will, _please_."

 

"You will come with my cock and nothing else," Will informed Hannibal. He knew it would take longer – that they would both be sore, shaky and breathless at the end of it – but he didn't care. They were in no rush and Will was terribly addicted to the way Hannibal was looking at him in this moment. "Say it."

 

"I'm going to come with your cock fucking me open over and over," Hannibal elaborated, knowing how his words could affect Will in return. "And nothing else," Hannibal panted. Will was pulled down onto his forearms by Hannibal's hands, and Hannibal whispered in Will's ear, "So get on with it."

 

" _Fuck_ ," Will cursed and tucked his face against Hannibal's neck as he picked up a more demanding rhythm with his hips. Each time he would pull out until only the head of his cock kept Hannibal stretched open and then he would thrust back in with enough force to send them both skidding up the stained blankets, aiming for Hannibal's prostate on each hit and succeeding more often than not judging by Hannibal's building shouts.

 

"Will," Hannibal warned and Will lifted himself just enough to watch Hannibal's face. His lips were parted and his eyes finally slipping closed. " _Will_ , I—fuck, I need to come. _Please_."

 

"Eyes open," Will whispered.

 

Hannibal's eyes flashed open a second before Will paused and then bucked his hips hard enough that he expected bruises where their skin was slapping together. Hannibal's eyes closed again just as quickly but this time Will didn't scold him as he watched Hannibal's orgasm crash over him. Will continued to fuck Hannibal through it, groaning when Hannibal's hole clenched around him and milked Will on each shallow thrust of his hips.

 

Hannibal's eyes were still closed and his body was still twitching with spasms when he whispered his plea, " _Fill me_."

 

" _Hannibal_ ," Will moaned his name, nearly drowned out by Hannibal's next shout when Will gave one last powerful thrust to his prostate before his balls tightened and his come began to fill Hannibal's ass. Will reached down and stroked Hannibal's cock a few times, fingers sliding through sticky come, and relished in the way Hannibal squirmed with oversensitivity but didn't pull away or ask Will to stop. Will continued to fist Hannibal's length until his own body was spent, which was when he finally pulled out, let go and lay down beside Hannibal on the mattress.

 

They remained sprawled side by side while they caught their breath, Will absentmindedly skimming his fingers through Hannibal's chest hair. Neither of them were tired, still energized from the hunt and the kill, but Will wasn't opposed to lounging in bed for a few minutes with his partner. They would still move Trevor to the basement to be prepared, complete a first rudimentary cleaning of the floors and switch bed sheets until a thorough cleaning in the morning, and shower before sleeping, but there was no rush.

 

For now, Will held Hannibal close in his arms and they kissed with a satisfied smile on their lips.

 

#

 

"They're all seated."

 

Will finished pulling out the meat thermometer from the roast to set aside and then turned to face Hannibal as he approached in the kitchen. "Good. And how are you?"

 

Hannibal's eyes momentarily left Will to survey the countertop full of steaming trays of food. A roast as the centrepiece with other side dishes including beautifully-cooked kidneys, liver, lungs, heart and brain, and paired with various assorted vegetables. All of it looked – and smelled – delicious. Certainly nothing about the meal gave away the source of the meat to anyone who wasn't there to watch as Hannibal pierced his lungs and carved through his heart.

 

Will had spent the entire day with Hannibal, taking him through the process of preparing the meat removed from Trevor's corpse and cooking it into various dishes for their table. Hannibal's hands had hesitated but he never retreated. Will didn't know exactly what was driving Hannibal; pride, curiosity, or a desire to please Will. He didn't mind any or all three motivations, but Will had to ensure that Hannibal wouldn't panic in front of their dinner guests.

 

"Hannibal," Will spoke softly, drawing Hannibal's gaze back to him. Hannibal watched him as Will took a carving knife and cut a small slice of the roast off the end. Will speared the seasoned meat onto a fork and presented it to Hannibal, who balked. "What do you fear?"

 

Hannibal swallowed, eyes flickering between Will's face and the meat. "That I'll like it."

 

Will held the fork aside and cupped the back of Hannibal's neck with his other hand, bringing him in for a kiss. Hannibal kissed him back but his uncertainty soured the brush of their lips and Will asked, "What else?"

 

Hannibal looked away but Will turned his face forward again with a hinting touch to his jaw. Hannibal swallowed. "That if I don't, you won't want me anymore."

 

Will sighed and considered the meat still steaming on the fork for a moment. He allowed it when Hannibal wrapped a nervous arm around him, as though fearing that Will would leave even though he had no such intentions. Will thought about his father teaching him to honour every part of the animal and how many years Will had eaten his kills. He considered how much he himself yearned to taste human flesh again after waiting for so long since moving to Baltimore to begin a game that had turned out to be far more important than a game in the end.

 

That was the key. This wasn't a game, and Will hadn't lost if Hannibal chose not to take this path. He had come here out of intrigue but had found something much more valuable than a plaything to manipulate and toy around with when the rest of society bored him. And somehow, despite – or because of who Will was, Hannibal had seen value in him as well. Hannibal had made sacrifices, not to change but to re-evaluate the rules he had lived by for so long, to take risks and venture onto a new path.

 

It wasn't a weakness for Will to make sacrifices for Hannibal in return; it was a strength. However much Will missed the taste of human meat, it was superfluous compared to the partnership Hannibal offered him. So Will offered a small smile and moved to set the fork away, though Hannibal's other hand caught his wrist and stilled him. Hannibal's eyes were questioning and Will answered. "You don't have to eat it." Hannibal frowned in confusion and Will continued. " _We_ won't eat it."

 

"Will..." Hannibal seemed at a loss for what to say.

 

Will gently pried his wrist from Hannibal's grasp and set the fork and meat down fully on a plate. "You are far more important to me than what's in my diet, Hannibal," Will insisted. The fact that Hannibal had believed otherwise made Will want to strip Hannibal bare and mark every inch of him with lips and teeth, but they had dinner guests to consider.

 

Hannibal stared at Will for another long moment and then returned his hand to Will's wrist. "Feed it to me."

 

Will blinked in surprise, processing the words, but didn't need Hannibal to repeat them. Slowly he plucked up the fork again and held it in front of Hannibal in offering between them. He watched as Hannibal leaned forward the few inches required to close his mouth around the meat and clamp his teeth down, taking the meat with him when he pulled back. With rapt attention Will watched Hannibal's face for clues as he chewed slowly and at last swallowed.

 

The genuine surprise and pleasure on Hannibal's face at the taste of the meat really made Will consider sending the guests home so that he could be inside Hannibal again as soon as possible. Instead he settled for a kiss after he set the fork aside again, and he moaned when he tasted the meat and spices on Hannibal's curious, eager tongue.

 

A throat being cleared startled them apart, though Hannibal and Will still held each other close. They looked over to find Bev in the kitchen doorframe, her arms crossed and her smirk unsurprised. "I came to see if you guys needed a hand but it looks like you're doing fine all on your own."

 

Hannibal looked briefly back at Will before facing Bev again, biting his bottom lip. "We were going to make an announcement over dinner."

 

Bev raised an amused eyebrow. "If you were expecting a shocked response then I'm afraid you're in for some disappointment," she informed them. "Shall I leave you two alone?"

 

"No," Will shook his head and let go of Hannibal, waiting for Hannibal's own hands to slip away before he stepped around the counter to pick up the first tray of food. "Take this tray in for the table and then have a seat; we'll be right out," he told her.

 

She left with a nod and after a stolen glance and a quiet chuckle, Will and Hannibal began carrying the other trays of food out to the table. While they brought out the food in multiple rounds Will listened to snippets of Jack's conversation with the rest of the table and knew Hannibal had to be listening in as well. There was a series of grumblings from Jack about the messenger man killer who was deemed to have 'vanished without a trace'.

 

Will doubted Jack would ever let it go, but his job required that he refocus on other crimes, and Jack was derailed by Bev bringing up the reported disappearance of Trevor Barter. The others at the table muttered about how they weren't exactly in a rush to send out a search party, a few people muttering 'good riddance' under their breath. Will caught Hannibal's eye over the table but neither of them visibly reacted to the conversation as they made their way to their seats.

 

Will's chair was at the head of the table with Hannibal on his immediate right. Beverly sat beside Hannibal and Alana next to her, with Jack, Brian and Jimmy on Will's left in a row. "Your wife wasn't able to attend?" Will asked Jack as he set down the last tray of food and grasped the wine bottle to circle the table and fill everyone's glasses.

 

"She was feeling ill," Jack explained as he watched Will fill his own glass with red wine. "But she sends her regards."

 

Will smiled faintly. "We will send you home with extra food for her to enjoy," he said as he finished off with his own glass and stood at the head of the table. "For now, let us eat. Hannibal and I were going to make an announcement about our decision to pursue a relationship but Beverly has kindly informed us that no announcement is necessary."

 

Everyone laughed and Will heard at least one person mutter ' _finally_ ', but everyone raised their glass in a toast. At the group's insistence, Will ducked in to kiss Hannibal deeply where he sat, and paid no mind to the playful groans they received in response. It was Jack who finally told everyone to settle down and Will broke the kiss, though lingered for a moment to whisper in Hannibal's ear. "My heart is yours."

 

Will could tell by Hannibal's expression when he withdrew to his own chair that Hannibal was also considering throwing their dinner guests on the street to peel off Will's clothes, but they both refrained. Instead Hannibal touched a hand briefly to the breast of his dinner jacket, a silent response, and they both smiled. Their smile turned into a private smirk when everyone took their first bites of food and the table was swept up in a wave of compliments. Then, with their eyes still locked, Will and Hannibal closed their mouths around their own bites of meat and chewed with satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to believe this story has come to an end! I wanted to thank everyone for reading my story, and a special thank you to those who left (a) comment(s) <3
> 
> Please consider following me on Tumblr (link below) or subscribe to me here. At the moment I'm primarily writing Hannigram and Ereri (SnK) and there will be more fics for both pairings coming really soon ;)
> 
> Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)


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